Mass Effect: Massive Shock Redux
by MB79
Summary: An amateur writer, writing for the sake of it, grown and matured, frustrates long-time readers by rewriting an old story rather than continue it, for now at least. This story is unique of the original, drawing only inspiration in plot. Enjoy
1. Rapture

**Mass Effect: Massive Shock**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Mass Effect or BioShock franchises or any characters or property that BioWare or 2K games has staked claim upon. Original Characters that I create may be used or distributed for use at my leisure.**

 **Stylistic Notes: Any comments from the author of any kind will be done in bold print. Any communications, read text, past events, stories, or subconscious thoughts of characters other than myself will be done in italics. Enjoy!**

 **Rated M: For Coarse Language, Graphic Violence, and Non-Explicit Suggestive Themes.**

 **"Nothing endures but change."**

 **~Heraclitus~**

* * *

 **An amateur writer, writing for the sake of it, grown and matured mentally, frustrates long-time readers by rewriting an old story rather than continue it, for now at least. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **Ch. 1: Rapture**

 **9:48 AM December 29, 2011**

* * *

I'm going to tell you a story.

You won't believe it. But you don't need to believe it. It's the truth and whether you believe it or not it needs to be said because if it goes any longer without being said it will go away or it won't be true anymore.

You know those video games you like? I lived them.

Sorry to be so blunt about it. Not all of them, of course. Just one. Though one more than I'd like to have lived in a lifetime. To you, they're often little more than just games. A means of entertainment. Trust me, I get it. I loved video games when I was younger, before all this happened. I loved escaping into another world or reality and immersing myself in it. Because reality isn't always ideal, and video games were a way for me to muffle that for a time.

Enough chatter though. I'm going to tell you a story. And it's easiest to go from the beginning.

When I was 17… the DAY I turned 17 to be exact, I went to a museum for my birthday. Let me tell you, BAD IDEA. Objectively, who goes to a museum for their birthday? I'm sure many people do do that and don't get me wrong, I love museums. But as a 17 year old teenager, all I wanted to do, literally, all that motivated me, was talking to girls. And I'm telling you that to show how different things are. How fucked up things were to change this kid into the person who's telling you this story right now.

When I was 17, I was only recently coming into myself. I was a late bloomer of sorts. "Of sorts," because it's not like I hit puberty at 16 or something. No I was just a slow developer. I didn't get a growth spurt like all the popular athletes at my high school. From the time I was 13, all the way until I was about 20 or so, I got taller very slowly. And I was kid-chubby until I was about 15 when I started exercising and leaving my house more often. When I was 17, I was thinnish and still kind of short compared to some, and still kind of awkward. Some people were able to kind of talk to girls or boys they liked by the time they were like 14 or 15. But I didn't really kind of figure it out until 16 or so. Still haven't if I'm being frank.

Long story short, I was awkward. And a lot of people thought I was conceited and full of myself because I looked at mirrors a lot, when in reality I was just overly self-aware and closed off and introspective. I just kept to myself because putting myself out there was too harmful. I learned how to fake it, just like everyone has by the age I am now.

When I was 17, I was thinnish. I was in fairly good shape because I was participating in various after-school programs and exercising vigorously because I wanted to join the military. I wanted to be thin like everyone else I knew, but retrospectively, it's a good thing I just can't be. I like the way I look now. At the time I weighed about 150 pounds, but didn't really look it.

I've always been one of those thick bodied people. Like, I don't know if it's my bone structure, or genetics, or both, but I've just been a thick person. I have thick arms, thick legs, big shoulders, a big chest, a thick neck, a fat ass, and a huge back with a narrow waist. Not that I look like some kind of dwarf or something. I'm proportional for the most part, I'm just trying to emphasize that in my adolescence where most people were lanky sticks or chubby as fuck I was somewhere in between. In short, I wasn't cut or anything back then, and I wasn't a twig. This natural thickness didn't do me favors as a young man though, as I wasn't very tall until my early 20's or so. When I was 17, I was about 5'7". So I was a stocky little bastard for sure. So, I'm kind of glad I can't be a skinny-skinny. My body just naturally wants to put on bulk, so when I finally became taller and more muscular, I didn't look half bad.

People thought me conceited because I'm not ugly. And even when I was awkward, self-conscious and kid-chubby, I thought I had a nice face. I have green eyes and shiny, thick, semi-straight brown hair. I have a cut, triangular jawline, a sharp but not pointy chin, no real cheek bones to speak of, and nice lips. I wore my hair in a messy side part of sorts with short sides. And I couldn't really grow facial hair at the time. At the time, I also had a nice tan, but that faded quickly after the incident.

My goodness. I haven't even gotten to that part yet.

Okay, so backtracking, museums on your birthday are not the best idea. Especially obscure ones like the one we went to. But we went to this one because I was tired of going to the usual stuff for my birthday, because it was near the restaurant we wanted go to, and because I wanted to at least pretend I had some culture.

Alright, so we get to this museum and my mom's driving. I love my mom. She was a great mom and I miss her.

"We're here!" my mom announces from the driver's seat.

"Finally!" my brother says from the far back of the car. I never thought much of my brother. He was never much of an achiever. I was an achiever even if I didn't achieve much. At least I counted my worth based on personal merits. He never achieved many merits in my book. I miss him all the same.

"You're 17 now, does it feel different?" My mom asks me.

"Not even a little bit," I respond, disembarking from the car with my brother, my sister and my mom.

My sister was always demure but I like to think that after I left she became more outspoken and learned to love herself more. I'm sure she did. She was an achiever too. I miss her also.

As we walk up to the museum entrance, I turn up the volume on my phone in attempt to drown out the world around me. That's the kind of ungrateful shit I was. Events seemingly fly by from there: go inside and get a program of exhibits. My mom is saying something as we stand in the lobby of the museum. It seems important so I take out my earbuds so I can hear her better.

"…meet back here at 11:30 okay?"

"What for?" I say

"We're going to go get lunch after this, then come back and see the other museums in the park." My mom responds, seemingly exasperated that she had to repeat herself.

"Oh, alright, so I can just wander?" I say.

"Mhm."

"Sweet." I say and I immediately walk off in another direction, plugging my ear buds back into my ears. Yeah. I know. I was a little asshole.

As I walked through the museum, I looked at the exhibits, with their mannequins and period clothing. Nothing caught my interest. Not the JFK exhibit, or the one about the Korean War, or even the Space Race one. Which is surprising to say the least because I LOVED space. Pretty soon, I got lost. This place was oddly big for a random museum about the 20th century.

And as I'm walking through the exhibits, I start hearing this noise. It's like a faint music but clouded with heavy static. And I can hear this noise over the sound of the music blaring through my earbuds into my skull. It was like the faint music and static were in my head. And it was subtle at first but after a while of thinking I was hearing something, I KNEW I was hearing something. So I started following the "sounds." It brought me to a wall. Not very dramatic I know, but wait. So all of the walls were covered with these thick, dusty, red curtains. And as I reached this wall, I listened and I could tell that this was where the music was coming from. I was pressing my ear up against the curtain and the wall to listen better, when the wall fell away like a door swinging open. And I fell into this hallway, with red curtains all around. It was dark, and I didn't like the dark. Straight ahead of me was a dull light. Behind me, was a solid wall again.

And I could hear the music coming from up ahead.

And I know what you're thinking. "You fell for the fucking trap. You'd think that as a gamer, you'd know this was a 'oh fuck no' sort of scenario."

Well it's not like I had a lot of options. When video games and life put you on rails, you can go one way or the other. And if you go the other way, you're going to hit a dead end. Going backwards was not an option for me, so yeah, I fell for the fucking trap.

And to be honest, I was curious.

So. Coming to the end of the hall, I pushed through a curtain draped over a doorway. And I was now in a hexagonal room. The room had undressed mannequins in it. And the mannequins at this museum were the cloth kind with no features whatsoever. So they're less creepy in my opinion than the plastic ones.

Anyway there are about a dozen or so mannequins in this room. And the floor had a thin layer of water puddles on the floor. So the room had this musky, mildewy smell to it. But in the middle of the room was a small round wooden end table with a blocky radio from the 60's on it.

The music was coming from there. I walked up to it, and played with the knobs until it cleared up.

"Somewhere… Beyond the sea, somewhere, waiting for me… My lover stands on golden sands, and watches the ships, go sailing…" Somewhere Beyond the Sea by Frank Sinatra.

Okay. Great. Now how the fuck do I get out of here?

But then the music stops. And there's this beeping. Like a bomb almost where it starts slow and slowly picks up pace. And more static and this dull ringing.

And there's a voice. Here's what it says:

"A man has a choice. I chose the impossible. I built a city where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. But my city… was betrayed by the weak. So I ask you, my friend. If your life were the prize, would you kill the innocent? Would you sacrifice your humanity? We all make choices. But in the end, our choices make us."

Well that sounds damn familiar.

As the voice on the radio speaks, the beeping gets faster and the ringing and static get louder. And right as he finishes his final word, it gets to the point of being unbearable. And then it just stops.

"Make your choice."

I look about and I can't find the way I came. And the mannequins. They're standing. And they're each holding a curtain open. Behind each curtain is a doorway to another long hall. Each a different way I guess.

Entirely befuddled and afraid, I'm frozen. What is happening?

Suddenly, cloth arms wrap around me. 3 mannequins grab me from behind and wrestle me to the ground.

"No? Then I shall choose for you."

The mannequins drag me forward, toward the center most hall. From it I can hear Frank Sinatra again. The mannequins are strong. Unnaturally strong. And I have no chance against them as they throw me into the hall and release the curtain.

It's dark again and I run back to run through the curtain but there's just a wall there. I slam, face first, into it and see stars, and taste blood and feel pain lance through my face. I fall backward onto the ground but find the hallway is partially filled with water.

I submerge myself in the icy water, and panic as I try to get back to my feet. I manage it, but find that the water level is rising. So I panic again.

And then down the hall, I see a figure. It's a girl. A young girl, probably 6 or 7 years old. She's standing knee deep in the water.

She giggles and turns to run away from me. "Come on! Big Brother!"

Her voice is wrong. But I follow her, with no other options available to me.

I run after her, slowed by the quickly rising water. Within a moment it's waist deep but she always seems to stay in knee deep water.

And then, I fall. And when I fall I plunge into the icy water. And when I do that, the floor seems to disappear, and the walls, and I'm just in darkness.

And this darkness, it's like, more permanent than any other darkness I'd been in before. It's like I was in a room. Where the room had no light and had never known light. And I can see nothing, and everything in the room at the same time. Like I can't see anything, but that's because there is nothing. It's a void, so perfectly empty. I can hear nothing. Feel nothing. And see nothing.

But I can smell. Oddly I can smell. I can't breathe but I can smell. And the smell is choking. It smells like dirty metal and dead bodies. It has that smell that old quarters have and the smell of rotten meat.

And then I know why. It turns out, I can see. There was just nothing to see. Because now, I see a hand, reaching out for me. The hand is the color of bone and the smell is coming from it.

The hand is gigantic, and it closes around my body, crushing it in an iron grip.

"Die." A voice, the hand's I presume, says with a voice that is deep and metallic with an intense vibrato. "Die. And be born anew. You must choose. Kill the innocent and live. Sacrifice your humanity, and live. You will die if you do not. You must choose to live. Now, die and be born anew, slave."

The hand squeezes, and crushes me. And I die.

I died. Like, I felt myself die.

But I didn't. Because then, I was awake. It was still dark but I was awake. I could feel it. The smell was gone. Instead I smelled the ocean. And I heard the ocean. And I felt cold and wet. A sudden wave of icy water rushes over my feet and legs and I yelp, scrambling to my feet. It was only dark because my eyes were closed, evidently. It is night time though. The moon is full and thousands of stars are in the sky.

I don't know where I am. Wherever this place is, it's well below freezing cold and I'm wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and jeans. Looking around me, I'm on some sort of stone staircase. Above me is an incredibly tall structure that looks sort of like a lighthouse. Turning around, I see nothing but ocean from horizon to horizon.

Well. Isn't that great. I'm in the middle of the mother fucking ocean.

Though this place is familiar for some reason. Like I've been here before

Again, with no other options, I climb the stone staircase to the huge, ornate, brazen doors of the structure. I need to get warm. Nothing else is important. I need to get warm and dry. Nothing else matters I just need to get dry.

The room I'm in is pitch black, where the only light is the moonlight coming through the small opening in the door where I entered. Suddenly, the door creaks shut behind me and I'm left standing shivering in the cold dark. It's silent in here. All I can hear is my shaking breath, my teeth chattering.

Minutes pass, I'm afraid to take a step. I can hear something else in here. It's hard to tell what it is because of my own breathing but I think it may be the wind? Or no… maybe breathing.

Suddenly the room lights up as the power kicks in and I blink and cover my face. I rub my eyes and try to adjust them to the light. A small chuckle from behind me makes me whirl around in shock. Nothing. No I wasn't hallucinating or anything. That was a laugh. I look around to my left and right frantically, still nothing.

The room I'm in is huge. And the inside walls are all gilded and shiny. But the main thing to take note of is a huge golden statue on the far wall. The statue is coming out of the wall and depicting the torso of a man, breaking a chain with his hands. That is strangely familiar.

All of this is strangely familiar.

I am suddenly slammed into the ground as something hits me from behind and above. I lift myself up onto all fours and look up with hazy vision at a pair of thin misshapen legs and feet, wrapped in rotten yellow bandages. A fierce pain shoots through my back as I feel something stab into it. I scream in pain and the person uses whatever they stabbed me with to throw me several feet away into a wall with incredible force.

I slam into the wall, back first and look up, still hazy, just in time to see something flying at my face. I throw myself to the side and with barely enough time. Whatever was flying at me cuts my temple, leaving a deep gouge from about an inch back from the corner of my eye to almost the back of my head. I look at the projectile and it looks like a long, notched, jagged blade. A kitchen knife.

I look at my attacker and am horrified by this creature standing before me. It's mishappen, deformed, could hardly be described as human. It has extra toes, swollen feet and emaciated legs. A head swollen to the size of a watermelon, wrapped so tightly in bandages that the flesh bulges from between them. Its one visible eye is the size of a baseball with pupils that take up most of the space. Its lips are disturbingly red and I realize that it is wearing lipstick. It's also wearing the tatters of a cocktail dress over its emaciated torso and its belly swollen from malnutrition.

It laughs, its voice surprisingly and disturbingly clear and vivid and feminine. "Hey there handsome. Wanna dance?"

Fuck.

It charges at me and I reach back and yank the kitchen knife from the wall. I get to my feet and ram the knife forward as it reaches me. It slams me into the wall three times and throws me to the side. I grunt as I hit the ground, feeling a bone in my elbow crack as it takes the initial force of the landing.

I look back at the creature. The oversized jagged kitchen knife is protruding from its swollen belly. It grabs the knife and yanks it out, spilling blood all over the floor. It shrieks and laughs and stomps towards me, knife raised.

Just as it reaches me, I see it slip in a puddle of blood. Whether its my own or its blood I can't say but it opens a window of opportunity. This is my chance. With all my strength, I lash my foot out and kick the creature in the knee as hard as I can while it's still trying to regain balance. I hear a sickening crack and see the creature's knee bend unnaturally and it falls to the ground. I quickly get to my feet to kick it but the creature is madly flailing the knife around. I back away for a second until it rolls over. I then leap forward, slamming my foot down onto the back of its head. I hear it grow silent for a second and then I hear it laugh. I stomp on the back of its head again and again until I can feel how shattered its misshapen skull is.

I collapse back against a railing behind me, across from the statue. My breathing is ragged, blood is pouring down the side of my face and I can feel it running down my back too. I'm having a hard time breathing. I think it broke some of my ribs. Not to mention my elbow is probably broken too. I reach behind my back and feel that whatever the thing stabbed me with is still in my back. I yank it out and see it's a large rusted meat hook.

Well, if I don't bleed to death then I'll at least be sure I can die of tetanus. Listen to me. I just killed someone and I'm making fucking jokes.

I turn around and look at the statue again. It's too familiar.

Next to me is a plaque. In the middle of that plaque is a large golden button.

I look around to see if there are any further dangers and then I press it. And the voice from the radio says to me from the plaque:

"Is man not entitled to the sweat on his brow?"

Wait….

"'No!' Says the man in Washington, 'It belongs to the poor!'"

No… No this can't be real.

"'No!' Says the man in the Vatican, 'It belongs to God!'"

Oh my fucking God…

"'No!' Says the man in Moscow, 'It belongs to everyone!'"

This isn't fucking real.

"I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible, I chose…"

"Bioshock? Seriously?" I say out loud.

* * *

 **5:49 AM December 29, 1968**

Hard to believe, I know. But that's the story.

But it's been six years. Six fucking years I've been in this hellscape. I've been fighting everything, from Splicers, to Big Sisters, to Big Daddies. I've just been trying to survive this whole time. At this point, I've stopped trying to mull out what happened or why I'm here. Yeah, Bioshock was a video game. But now it isn't. Rapture is a real place and I'm trapped here.

There were plenty of attempts at escaping. Trust me. I hadn't played the games for a while when I left my world, but I remembered a few ways of escaping. Sinclair had a submarine. I'd met him. Nice fellow. I tried helping him but I wasn't able to and he wasn't able to help me either. I tried stealing bathyspheres but Sophia Lamb has had this place on lockdown for years and blocked all my attempts to get them out of here.

When I got here it was absolute chaos. More than usual apparently.

The splicers were suffering from ADAM withdrawl because in 1960, Jack left Rapture with Dr. Tenenbaum and all the Little Sisters. Without a means of recycling it, ADAM became a scarce resource. I saw a lot of Splicers drinking blood in an attempt to get some ADAM at least. Around 6 months or so after I came here, Lamb was doubling down. All I heard over the radio and the loudspeakers were her slogans and promises. Safety and security. ADAM for all. People worshipped her like a god.

I didn't. Fuck that.

I don't need or crave ADAM like the other splicers do. When I first used, it was out of necessity. There was this wall of ice blocking the pathway to hydroponics. I'd been trapped around the welcome center area for over a month and I'd barely been scraping by. I needed food and I figured the best place to find it was in hydroponics. So I gathered up the raw ADAM I'd found off of the bodies of splicers and daddies and I used it to synthesize an Incinerate plasmid from the gene splicing machines that are all over the place.

I remembered the games. I was ready for my arms to burst into flames, my flesh to melt, my mind to scream in agony as my body was changed on a cellular level, as my DNA was erased and rewritten.

But that didn't happen.

In fact, nothing happened. Not right away at least. I found out later after some testing that some gene in me tells my body to welcome ADAM, store it, and let it change me over time. For other Splicers it's a painful, violent, fast acting effect. Not for me. It took another month for Incinerate to manifest into anything remotely useful and years since then for it to become more effective.

Discovering this, I've spliced up like crazy. When I got here, ADAM was scarce because there was a shortage of Little Sisters. She promised to get them back. She delivered. She took little girls from the surface and brought them down here and turned them into those things. I remember when I first saw one of them. Little Sisters, that is. Dirty, smelly, blood oozing from her mouth. Cute in a macabre kind of way. She was a means to an end though. I knew how to get ADAM out of her but I didn't want to do it that way.

Cutting her open and ripping the fat slug out of her body that is.

So I got her to take me to Tenenbaum. It wasn't easy. I had to fight off Big Daddies, mad Splicers, Big Sisters, and Lamb's cultists. When I finally found the good doctor, she gave me a plasmid that would flush the slug out of the Sister's body without killing her. Rescue, it was called.

And for no reason in particular, other than for ADAM and morality, I rescued as many of them as I could. This put a big target on my back though. Lamb wanted to know who was undoing her work and who was causing her to lose support from splicers. She's tried capturing me a few times but I've managed to avoid her people for the most part. I have a well defended, albeit ramshackle abode in Athena Commons. It took me months to clear out a path to Athena Commons. Then several more months to clear the place of splicers, many of whom were trapped there for a really long time. They were mad with withdrawal and many were starving and cannibalistic. But I killed them and ran the rest off and secured it with a gauntlet of turrets, drones, traps and bombs. And I've been reinforcing it daily for the last few years.

So of course, they captured me, AWAY from home.

One week ago, she got me. I was in some ruined bar, drinking a still sealed bottle of bourbon when I was attacked by a Splicer who could turn invisible. She knocked me out and I've spent the last week in Persephone Correctional Facility. And this is likely where I'll die as well. This place is supposed to sink once Delta comes here to face Sophia Lamb for the final time.

At present, I've just been beaten, and I'm being dragged through a hallway to be interrogated. The splicers dragging me are my personal guards, wardens, and judges. They watch me, feed me, and drag me from point A to point B. But not before beating me senseless first. They both have my guns. The one on my right has my tommy gun and the one on my left has my pump-action shotgun and my pistol.

"Has Delta gotten here yet?" I ask, spitting out some blood.

"Shut up meat!" The splicer on my right hisses through a lipless, noseless face. "Lamb is going to get you to talk and tell us where those lil sissies are."

"I've never met Delta personally." I respond, ignoring him. "But I'm an admirer of his. He's killed so fucking many of you fuckers."

"Quiet!" The one my left with my shotgun says, he raises it threateningly into my face, "Or I won't wait for Lamb to—"

The ground, walls, ceiling, everything begin to shake extremely violently. Ohhhh motherfucker.

"What?! What's happening?!" The splicer on my right screams. He lets go of my arm and spins around, shooting in random directions.

Well that wasn't smart of him. As I activate Winter's Blast, icicles shoot out of my right hand and forearm, my skin turning translucent and forming an opaque layer of frost. I grab the forearm of the splicer on my left and flash freeze it. He screams and tries to move and aim the shotgun at my head. But in doing so breaks his arm in half where I froze it. Chucks of frozen meat and blood fall to the ground as he screams in pain and terror, firing the shotgun on accident.

I throw myself aside and roll over, snapping my fingers in the direction of the splicer with my machine gun.

As I snap my fingers, a spark appears in the air that causes a rippling wave of heat to wash towards him, fast as a bullet. As the wave reaches him, his clothes, hair and skin catch on fire. He shrieks in horror and pain just like his friend. My hand glows red and flames crawl up my fingertips and over the back of my hand to my forearm. It hurts but not as badly as it hurts them no doubt.

I get to my feet and raise my right hand again, still frosty from Winter's Blast and activate Telekinesis. My hand glows with a dull yellow light, my bones and veins still black and reposed against my glowing flesh. With a twitch of my fingers and a slight effort on my part, the burning splicer's machine gun flies out of his hands and into mine, flipping midair so I catch it by its grip.

The other splicer is desperately trying to cock the shotgun at this point, rubbing the stump of his arm back on the slide to try and get it to rack another shell. I point my tommy gun at him and pull the trigger, unleashing a short but deadly burst of bullets into his body.

He stumbles back and falls on the ground, twitching. I pick my shotgun up and a duffle bag off of the back splicer who isn't burning. I stuff the weapons into the bag, take my 1911 pistol from the dead splicer as well and leave the other splicer to continue to burn and crackle on the ground.

I begin to run down the hall, following the signs for the next closest bathysphere.

I'm sure Tenenbaum has escaped Rapture by now with the Little Sisters we've rescued. Now I just have to worry about myself. And now that Lamb is gone I bet I can finally ride a bathysphere out of here! I run full speed through the corridors of Persephone, ignoring many of the panicked splicers around me. I hit a few with Electro Bolt as needed whenever they get too close. I leap over debris that is in my path whenever I need to, which goes to show how much has changed for me here I suppose. I never could jump very well before. I ignore the many panicking splicers around me as I run determined through the rooms. Finally, as I turn a corner into towards a large docking area with several bathyspheres I hear a sharp, shrill cry like from a little girl.

I freeze and look back and see a Little Sister, still in the sisterhood and corrupted by the slug, being attacked by a splicer. She's attempting to hide underneath an overturned cabinet but the splicer is snarling and crawling after her, pulling her out by the ankle.

"Ah! Let go! Daddy will get you!" The Sister cries.

"Daddies are all dead!" The splicer shouts back, laughing maniacally. "So is the Lamb! Just you and me now! I'm taking you with me!"

I look back at the bathyspheres, then at the Sister and the splicer, and back at the bathyspheres. The whole fucking place is sinking into the blackest abyss in the ocean and I'm seriously going to bother with this?

"God. Dammit." I say out loud, running towards the splicer and the Sister.

I activate Winter's Blast and send a blast of sub-zero degree Celsius mist at the splicer. I've become quite skilled at aiming plasmids even when on the move and the blast hits the splicer square in the head.

His head freezes instantly, turning into a large block of misshapen ice. He drops the Sister's leg and claws at the ice ensconcing his skull, fighting to breathe and see. Winter's Blast can flash freeze flesh down to the bone. If it could penetrate bone, it'd likely kill him, but his brain is probably intact for now.

For now.

I pick up a large pipe as I run towards him, and with a running swing, crash it into his icy head.

There's a sound like shattering glass and I see chucks of red ice fly, then I see the splicer collapse.

I drop the pipe, look at the Little Sister and take a breath. "Come on kid."

She looks at me and reaches for my hand. I give it to her and run back towards the bathyspheres.

Thankfully, there are still a few left. I run to the nearest one and pry the door open. I usher the Little Sister into the Bathysphere and I'm about to step inside when I feel a blade plunge into my back twice and a hand on my shoulder pull me out of the bathysphere.

Grunting as I hit the ground, I try to activate a plasmid but the splicer that attacked me leaps on top of me immediately and raises his arms above his head, holding the long knife with both hands. I instinctively throw my hands up and catch his wrists just as he attempts to bring the knife down into my chest.

His bandaged wrapped head doesn't conceal his rancid breath or the curiously bright orange eyes that glare down at me.

"Get your own.. FUCKING bathysphere!" I snarl at him between clenched teeth. He leans down onto the knife, trying to press it into my chest.

"Die you fucking bastard!" The splicer hisses at me in an oddly personal way. Though after being here 6 years I've grown accustomed to people saying odd things.

I hear a shriek from the bathysphere. I glance over there and see the Little Sister trying to shut the bathysphere door as a Splicer fights to open it and get at her.

Fucking fuck. With a low growl I knee the splicer on top of me in the balls and let go with one hand. I reach over and use Electro Bolt to zap the splicer trying to get at the Little Sister. He shrieks, stumbling backwards as electricity arcs over his body. The Little Sister yelps and tumbles back in the bathysphere as she is released from the splicer's grip. I feel a pain in my chest as the knife slowly sinks into my sternum but I switch to Telekinesis and activate the bathysphere's controls and shut the bathysphere door. A red light begins to flash as the bathysphere begins to submerge slowly, water bubbling up around its edges. I turn my attention back to the splicer, his knife still pressing into my chest.

All around us, the walls seem to be collapsing. There are pops and explosions of steam from bursting pipes, bolts of electricity arcing out of rupturing power lines, and huge streams of ocean water blasting into the room from the rapidly forming cracks in the walls and from the bursting seams. I'm running out of time and bathyspheres.

I use my free hand to grab the side of his head, activating Incinerate as I do. The bandages on his head immediately catch fire, but I also blast flames from my palm. The fire burns straight through the bandages and sears his flesh. He screams in pain and attempts to roll off of me but I roll over with him and press his face down against the floor hard with my hand, burning still. Finally, I feel his knee slam into my groin and I lose my grip long enough for him to shove me off and run away, his head smoking. I see him look back at me from the doorway, a large handprint shaped burn on his face through his bandages. He mouths some curse at me and runs away.

I look back at the bathysphere and see only the top of it still above the water.

"Shit." I say out loud. I'm going for it, particularly considering this entire building is beginning to get crushed by the sea pressure. The other bathyspheres are already lost, either ruptured or on the verge of exploding. This one is fine only because it got the opportunity to launch. The walls themselves all around me are screaming, a horrible high pitched screeching noise that can only indicate that this place is ready to collapse entirely and implode.

I run at the submersible and leap on top of it, grabbing hold of metal rails attached to the hull with all my strength. The bathysphere completely submerges and the water is so cold I nearly gasp and inhale two lung-fulls of brine. The bathysphere, once completely submerged, begins moving at blinding speed down a rail. Most likely, the system knows the building is being evacuated so its sending us out as quickly as possible. Soon enough, the bathysphere is shot out of the tunnel like a bullet, clearing the structure quickly as the tiny propeller on the back keeping us moving albeit at an rapidly slowing pace. The bathysphere slowly rises toward the surface, but a massive explosion from the city, most likely as a result of Persephone rupturing and its internal air pressure escaping, causes the bathysphere to spin madly out of control and I lose my grip.

At this point, my lungs are screaming for air, and I can't tell how far I am from the surface but it's at least 300 feet. I know I'm not going to make it. But that Little Sister could. So, I use Telekinesis and stop the bathysphere for its wild spinning and launch it toward the surface.

I feel weak and heavy as I slowly descend after Persephone as it sinks into the dark undersea chasm. My lungs are screaming for oxygen. I can see the lights of Rapture distantly, and my life flashes before my eyes. Thinking back, my life wasn't bad growing up. My parents were together. My family was kind. My siblings weren't awful. I did well in school and I had friends. I definitely took all of that for granted. I knew that soon after I ended up here, but it's hitting me again. My life wasn't hard and it wasn't bad. And I took it for granted. And for whatever reason, my life was taken away from me. A lot of the time, I think it's my fault. For being a little shit and being ungrateful. Like, maybe this is the universe's way of punishing me and telling me why I should give a shit. It thrust me into the worst possible scenario.

It killed me and made me reborn. And now I'll die again. Well I hope the universe is happy. Because I learned my goddamn lesson. But despite that? I don't miss it anymore. I'm a different person now. That old life, I'd never fit in there as I am now. I held this glimmer of hope for a long time that I might go home, but I've known deep down for a long time that I don't belong there anymore. So I knew I'd never go home, and I knew I'd die here.

So I turn myself over as I descend into that abyss and I accept my fate. I feel almost warm and I don't feel the pain in my lungs quite so much anymore. I can't see Persephone anymore and I'm drifting down past the edges of the pit it disappeared into. I'm close to a craggy wall of the pit and I watch it pass by but soon I can't see it due to lack of light. Or lack of oxygen.

Why am I still holding my breath? I might as well just breathe and get it fucking over with, right?

Suddenly, a crack appears in the craggy wall of the pit and I see water flowing into it at great speed, like there was a void beyond it. The pull is so intense that I feel my body rush towards the crack faster than a car on a highway. I don't even try to fight it as I get sucked into the crack and into such pitch black darkness that I couldn't even try to figure out where I am.

I still feel myself speeding through the darkness at incredible speed. I don't know where I am or where I'm going and there's no chance of slowing myself down. I can't even feel the walls of the crack as I reach out.

And suddenly I feel like I'm somewhere else. I'm still in darkness, it's still freezing cold, but I'm in some sort of huge space. I can feel it. I can feel this pure emptiness around me. And I just don't feel like I'm living in here. Like it doesn't feel necessary to live in here. I don't even feel my body. I feel it's cold, I feel the water, and I feel pain. But I don't at the same time. Sort of like an out of body experience. It's darker in here somehow. And bigger. And emptier.

Wait. Fuck. Suddenly, I start hearing that noise again. It's so fucking familiar it makes my heart stop. And it's so fucking loud. It fills this huge empty space. That high pitched beeping, like a bomb, getting slowly faster and faster. And there's that ringing. That shrill ringing that just gets louder and louder. It gets so loud and painful I cover my ears but that doesn't stop the noise. The noise just digs furrows on the inside of my skull with jagged nails and bloody fingers. And I see the hand again. I smell it too. I see the bone white hand, that smells rotten and metallic, reaching for me. It's strange. I had almost forgotten how I'd gotten to Rapture in the first place. I remember the room with the mannequins and the hand and the radio but it's like, I never thought about it. And just as its fingers close around me, I get a fast glimpse of its face and the rest of its form and I snap my eyes shut and at that moment, the noise stops. And a pure silence follows. And I open my eyes.

And it's warm. I mean, warmer. But I can't breathe. I'm still in water but it's different. It's warm, clean, fresh water. A fish swims past my face. But not a fish I know. It's blue and green and purple. And just… fucking weird looking. Not like any fish I'm familiar with.

Wait. It's bright. I see everything. Oh there's light.

I look up and see the surface just a short distance away. And just then I feel how much I need air. It feels like my lungs are flaming raisins. They must be bleeding on the inside by now. I don't know how long it's been since I've last taken a breath.

I start scrambling towards the surface, wildly moving my arms and legs as quickly as I can, fighting to rise. And just as I'm about to break the surface of the water, my vision fades and I feel myself go unconscious. I feel something grab the back of my shirt however, just before I pass out.

I awake suddenly, my eyes opening slightly and my lungs filled with air and water, my diaphragm spasming. And the lips that were on mine pull away. Huh. I missed that. Weakly, I turn my head to the side and open my mouth, water gushing out of my mouth and lungs. I cough once and take a deep shaking breath in before coughing again, more violently. My head is hazy and my vision is blurry. I'm shivering as well.

"There you go, just breathe. You're alright." A women's voice says, soothingly. I feel some hands on my shoulders, holding me still.

"Get him a blanket or something!" Another voice says, this one masculine, but strangely flanged, with some natural vibrato and depth, sort of the way a Little Sister's voice is. "And where the hell is C-Sec?!"

I breathe, my breaths shuddering and ragged and full of effort. My eyes are extremely watery but I'm somewhere bright and warm. Which means I'm NOT in Rapture because NOWHERE in Rapture is bright OR warm.

I continue to just breathe and blink away my tears. I don't feel safe. I never feel safe. That is a natural instinct I developed from living in Rapture for 6 years but this is one of those scenarios where I feel like I should feel safe but I just don't.

I don't know what to do. I'm so weak I can hardly move.

"Keelah he's bleeding. Bleeding a lot." Another woman's voice says, this one sounding like it's altered with an electronic voice filter. Or spoken through a tin can.

"Well yeah there's a fucking knife in his chest." Someone else says, this voice normal sounding. "And what is he wearing?"

"That's what you're concerned about? Not the nearly drowned, stabbed man here?" The first woman's voice says.

I finally manage to blink away enough haziness to get an idea of who's standing over me. I can see a few people. One looks to be wearing some kind of blue hood or something, the other is tall and thick around the body, and the last is in dark clothing, head to toe.

"T-Thank you." I manage to say.

"Hey, hey." The person with the blue hood on says. "It's okay, don't talk. Help will be here soon."

I blink away my tears finally and my vision clears. "W-W-Where am…"

I stop talking because I can see the person speaking to me now. She's blue. She's not wearing a blood hood, she IS blue. She's blue, beautiful with facial markings on her face. She is an alien, no doubt about it. And it hits me, pretty quickly exactly WHAT she is.

She's an asari. And… yeah okay that's a quarian next to me, with her dark black and blue enviro-suit. And in front of me is a turian, with glossy skin and facial markings.

What the fuck.

I look around me, sitting up slightly. This is the Presidium. On the Citadel. It is I'm not imagining this. It's the fucking Presidium. I know this place. I loved the Mass Effect games when I was a kid. I fucking loved those games. And now an asari, a quarian and a turian and kneeling around me. What the actual fuck.

No. Like what the fuck.

First one video game became a reality, and now another.

I'm telling you. Moral of this story! Do NOT go to random museums on your birthday. I know that is probably not what caused this, but it's all I have to go on.


	2. Presidium

**Mass Effect**

 **Massive Shock Redux**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Mass Effect or BioShock franchises or any characters or property that BioWare or 2K games has staked claim upon. Original Characters that I create may be used or distributed for use at my leisure.**

" **Life is a choice."**

 **~Anonymous~**

 **Ch. 2: Presidium**

 **It's morning I believe… Don't know what day… Or year.**

* * *

"You still with us man?" The turian says, giving me a gentle shake.

I turn my head slowly to look at him.

"You still with me?" the turian says again. "Listen, I'm with C-Sec. I called an ambulance, they'll be here soon, okay?"

"I don't… I don't understand what's happening?" I respond, thinking out loud. I really don't know what else to say. This is really shocking. Not like this hasn't happened before, but the fact that there are aliens talking to me is really jarring. Like. I can smell them. Turians smell pretty okay just FYI. Clean, no cologne or anything.

Wait. Listen to me. I'm basing my opinion of turian smells off of the one and only turian I've met so far. How closed minded of me.

"What happened to you?" the quarian next to me says.

I turn and look at her. I can see the hazy silhouette of her face inside the mask as well as her glowing eyes.

"Err…" I mumble, not able to formulate words as I look at this quarian. By the way, quarians smell like sterile metal and laundry. This quarian has a black and blue suit, similar to Tali'Zorah nar Rayya's suit from ME1. Huh. Funny how I can remember that so vividly. I'm sure many small details to come will escape me but I can remember that fairly well. "What do you mean?"

"Well you're all battered and bruised and there's a knife in your chest." The quarian says. "Were you attacked?"

"I have a… oh!" I mutter looking down at my chest. The splicer's kitchen knife is still protruding from my sternum. Could be worse. "Well would you look at that."

"Don't worry man the ambulance will be here in a few minutes." The turian says. "My name's Officer Sagaeus, what's your name?"

"Err…" I mumble, trying to sound confused and act dumb.

I don't really want to tell him, particularly because I don't want a record of my being here. Even with my mind racing with the wildness of my current situation and the confusion of my existence, I worry that if they figure out I'm not a registered person here they may deport me to Earth or something. Which wouldn't be all bad but I have this funny feeling that I'm supposed to be here. Besides, it's probably easier to hide here on the Citadel where people come and go frequently.

"Listen, I think I'll be okay. No need for any ambulance." I say to this Officer Sagaeus. This Officer Sageaus is a large turian, hulking over me. He's got shiny dark, sort of gun-metal skin with a brown tone to it. His eyes are a luminous yet rich green. He's also got a pretty serious scar on the left side of his face. It's thick and convex, pale and shiny. It runs down from just above the brow of his left eye, down from the corner of his left eye to his neck. The cut left a noticeably permanent disfiguration in the form of him missing most of his left mandible.

"But you're hurt! And you almost drowned! I insist you see a doctor." The asari says. She's very attractive in an odd sort of way. Aesthetically she's simply gorgeous and her white facial markings that strike down from each of her head flappy things give her an exotic flair. Her upper lip is also the same white as for a small square on her lower lip giving her a very… chic geisha sort of vibe.

"Really, I don't need an ambulance." I say. "I don't think I could afford it anyways."

"You can't… Oh I see." Officer Sagaeus says, something dawning on him. "Mm… okay, listen, I promise that nothing will happen okay? But you need a doctor."

"What?" I say confused.

"Listen, I get it. You're… not from around here." Officer Sagaeus says.

"Ohhh." The quarian mumbles, looking thoughtful.

Well shit. I guess they figured out that I'm not supposed to be here.

The asari looks about her and then leans to Officer Sagaeus. "Listen, I know someone who could treat him."

He looks at her silent for a moment then raises his hand to his face. A orange glow sheathes his arm from his fingertips to his elbow. Oh! An Omni-Tool! How cool!

"Dispatch, this is Officer Sagaeus. I called in a 10-52 near the Embassies. Yeah, cancel that. The victim just ran off." Officer Sagaeus says into his omni-tool. There's a moment of silence as I assume he's listening to dispatch through some earpiece. "He took off quickly, I pursued for a moment but he didn't commit a crime so I didn't feel I could arrest him and force him into an ambulance… Roger."

Officer Sagaeus stands and helps me to my feet. "Okay where are we taking him?"

The asari gets to her feet as well. "To the Consort's Chambers! Quickly he's bleeding and people are noticing."

"Alright folks!" Officer Sagaeus shouts to the crowd. "Show's over! I'm taking this guy to the doctor! Give him some space, come on!"

The C-Sec officer and the quarian support me as we follow the asari towards the Consort's Chambers, which is just a short ways away.

"Thanks you guys." I mumble, surprisingly weak.

"Hey don't worry about it guy." The officer says, his arm wrapped under mine and around my torso. He's much taller than I am. He must be at least 6'6". "Just remember to pay it forward."

"Will do." I say, feeling really tired suddenly, my head getting heavy and rolling forward. Oh shit. I guess I lost a lot more blood than I thought I did.

"Whoa! Damn! He's fading!" The quarian says, alarmed.

"We're here! Come on!" The asari says, leading us to a backdoor into the Consort's Chambers.

She opens the door with a code from her omni-tool and leads us into a nice lounge room that is probably for staff only. She talks us through a hall and into a private room that looks like a massage room.

"Put him on the table!" She exclaims. "I'll be back!"

She runs off, while the officer hoists me up on the table. The quarian closes the door and rushes to my side.

"Fuck." Officer Sagaeus mumbles as he examines me. "Not good… Hey help me out and find some scissors or something. I need to get his clothes off."

The quarian says an affirmation and I hear her rummaging through some cupboards and drawers. Some soothing music begins to play and the lighting in the room changes to something more like candle-light.

"Fuck sorry." The quarian says, the room quickly returning to its normal lighting, the music stopping.

"Hey! Focus! I need some towels or something to help staunch the bleeding." The officer says. "Fuck man you're bleeding everywhere."

"Sorry." I mumble.

The quarian soon returns, handing over a pair of small scissors.

Officer Sagaeus uses then to cut my dirty, ragged, bloodstained shirt off. "Holy fuck man. What are you some kind of pit fighter? You've seen some damage."

"Quit gawking." I mumble in response, my vision getting dark and my head feeling really light and swimmy.

"Gimme those towels!" Officer Sagaeus says. "Here! Put pressure on that wound in his shoulder."

"Fuck! What the hell happened to you dude!" The quarian exclaims.

I hear the door open again and a gasp.

"Nelyna what in the fucking fuck?!" A woman's voice exclaims. "When you said there was an emergency I assumed you meant you spilled something!"

"Can you just help please?!" The asari's voice responds. "He's dying!"

"Goddammit!" The other woman's voice responds. "This guy needs a goddamn hospital!"

"He's unregistered!" Officer Sagaeus responds. "He'll be deported if we take him to a hospital… but if this gets any worse I'm going to call an ambulance."

"No. I can help him." The woman's voice says. "Alright give me that medi-gel you brought Nelyna. And you, get ready to press hard with those towels when I take the knife out. You, quarian, keep doing what you're doing."

I feel a hard grip on the knife in my chest. "Okay… one, two, three!"

The knife gets yanked out of my chest and I grunt even though I hardly felt it. I feel soft towels get pressed against my chest hard immediately after the knife gets pulled out. The woman who pulled it out drops the knife and it clatters on the floor.

"Okay I'm gonna apply the medi-gel. I'll have to get deep in there. The knife probably nicked an artery. That's why he's bleeding so much." The woman says. "Move the towels and hold him still."

I feel the towels move and something get inserted into the wound in my chest. It hurts a lot but I try not to move too much. Not like I have the strength to anyways. Something cold and thick is being squirted inside of me.

"Okay… I… got it!" The woman exclaims happily. "Okay get me those sutures please."

I feel my chest getting sutured up quickly and some more of the cold thick substance gets squirted over the suture.

"Okay… fuck me." The woman mumbles. "Who is this guy?"

"No idea…" The asari, Nelyna, responds. "Officer Sagaeus pulled him out of the lake and I gave him resuscitation."

"Well, he can't stay here you know." The woman says.

"He's got nowhere else to go." Officer Sagaeus says.

"This is the Consort's Chambers! Not a hotel!" The woman responds.

"He can come with me." The quarian says. "I know a place he can stay."

"Mm… Okay." Officer Sagaeus reponds. "If you need anything, any of you, here's my card. Just contact me."

"Thanks." The quarian responds. "I'm Nata'Acii Nar Rayya. You can call me Nata."

"Nelyna." Nelyna says.

"Cassandra." The woman who sutured me up says, sounding a little more begrudging.

"Okay, well, I need to leave now. Good work, the lot of you. I won't be reporting this. Just make sure he gets out of here soon… give him a minute though." Officer Sagaeus says before leaving.

Meanwhile, I'm still hardly conscious. I'm only listening right now for the most part. My eyes won't stay open and my head is still swimming.

"I'll keep an eye on him." Nelyna says. "Let him rest."

And as if on cue when I hear that, I pass out.

* * *

 **Hours Later…**

I awake, my head throbbing.

"Balls." I mumble, sitting up from the massage table. Looking down, I see bandages wrapped around my chest and shoulder. Many other parts of my torso are bruised purple or yellow-green and I feel the soreness of all my exertions and injuries setting. The room and massage table have been cleaned and I also have been cleaned from head to toe. That's invasive. But what's more is that my clothes are gone. Not a big loss. They were torn, filthy, faded, and bloodstained. I'm wearing a pair of grey sweat pants and nothing else. A pair of black Keds-like slip on shoes are on the floor next to the bed. I slip my feet into them and hop off the massage table. Far too quickly. My legs give out from under me and I catch myself on the massage table with a grunt.

I hear a gasp and I look up to see the asari from earlier rushing over to help me from a chair in the corner. She grabs me from around the torso and helps me to my feet.

"Whoa! Take it easy!" She says.

"Ugh… sorry." I respond, letting her help me back onto the massage table.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to yourself!" She responds. "You need to go easy on yourself. After what you've been through… speaking of, what happened to you?"

"It's complicated." I respond. "Listen, you wouldn't believe me anyways, so can we just move on?"

She puts her hands on her hips. "It's been a real ordeal of a day. And I want to explain something: That C-Sec officer put his job on the line for you, a stranger. _I_ put my job on the line for you, a stranger! So has everyone else that's helped you. The least you can do is offer an explanation for how you got so hurt in the first place! We just want to help you."

Unable to immediately respond, I just sigh. Well, she's right… I got to say. I'm really not used to people being so kind or wanting to help a stranger so badly. "Listen I-"

Just then, the door opens and the quarian from earlier comes in, yawning. "Oh hey! He's awake!"

I groan. Great. More people I have to explain myself to.

"Oh good." The asari says, crossing her arms. "He was just about to explain himself."

"Oh great." The quarian says, taking a seat on the counter across from me, further away than the asari. "So what's the story?"

"I was just saying that it's complicated and not believable." I say.

"Try us." The quarian says with a shrug.

"Mm. Fine. Well… I don't know where to start. Uh. Well, I'm from Earth. I'm from a city called Rapture. Rapture is a really bad place, with really bad people. Earlier today, I was being held captive by a group of splicers who were followers of a woman named Dr. Sophia Lamb. They had held me captive for a few weeks and I'd been beaten and tortured for some time. I escaped, but the holding facility was destroyed. I barely escaped and I was sure I was going to die but… I don't know something happened and the next thing I knew I was here." I say, deliberately leaving out a lot of information.

"Okay… Okay yeah that was hard to believe." The quarian says, shaking her head. "Okay, so let me get this straight. Just earlier _today_ you were on Earth?"

I nod.

"And you were being held captive by… what did you call them? Splicers?" The asari asks.

Fuck. Did I say splicers? I should have called them people but they're not even kind of people so I can see how I let that slip. "Uh, yeah. In Rapture, there are these people who use gene editing technology to change themselves. They're called splicers."

"Uh-huh…" The asari says. There's a long pause. "And… Where is this… 'Rapture?'"

"It's… under the ocean." I say.

The asari looks back at the quarian, who looks at her. They both look back at me.

"That's… interesting." The asari says, looking both creeped out and worried.

"… Okay seriously, cut the bullshit. What happened to you?" The quarian says folding her arms.

I sigh. "That's the truth. I don't know what else to say… Maybe I can show you."

I hop off of the table and focus my energy. This is going to be tough. I drained myself practically dry before I got here. But by now my body will have naturally restored at least enough EVE to show them. I raise my right hand and activate Electro Bolt.

They both gasp as the veins in my arm and the right side of my face and neck turn black and then glow a bight blue. Electricity arcs between my fingers and in long bolts down my arm.

"By the Goddess!" The asari exclaims.

I raise my other hand and activate Incinerate. They stare for a moment as nothing happens immediately. But then the asari furrows her brow in confusion as ripples of heat waft off of my arm. It suddenly bursts into angry flame, scathingly hot and roaring slightly.

"Keelah!" The quarian gasps, getting off the counter.

The asari grabs a towel and wets it in a sink, most likely to throw on my arm.

"Stay back!" I growl through gritted teeth, the plasmids turning painful. "That won't work! This is supposed to happen!"

I deactivate them with a sigh, collapsing back against the massage table, the flames licking out and the electricity disappearing, the veins bulging bright blue disappearing as well. The burnt flesh on my arm quickly heals and returns to normal as well.

"By the Goddess…" the asari mumbles.

"… Okay… A city under the ocean is sounding more plausible now." The quarian says.

I climb back up onto the massage table with a groan. "Look, you don't need to believe me. Just know, I don't know how I got here, but I really appreciate you guys helping me stay. I'm not used to getting help in this way from strangers. Rapture was a hellhole. I couldn't go anywhere without some spliced up psycho trying to kill me. It's nice to be able to rely on people for a change."

"Okay but the powers thing." The asari says pointing at me and looking a little freaked out.

"What about them?" I ask.

"How does that work exactly?" She asks looking still freaked out.

"Okay… it's a little complicated. But in the vicinity of Rapture, there was this species of sea slug that had a substance inside of them that basically stimulate the formation of rapid, very potent stem cell production. It was called ADAM. In its raw form it's a vicious green glowing slime. Science was able to encode the ADAM with "splices" meaning that they were able to input gene codes into the stem cells to foster a particular kind of change in the person. The encoded splices were called Tonics and Plasmids. Plasmids work like turning a switch on or off. I can activate them as I need them. Things like electricity or fire abilities. Tonics on the other hand work all the time. Things like being able to run faster, having faster cellular cycling, having to eat less, having tougher skin, etc. So ADAM splices became fashionable and people were using them left and right but it was also addictive. By the time they figured that out it was too late and people had become dependent. With ADAM shortages as well, there was too much demand and not enough supply. Eventually, the city just fell to pieces. I was caught up there.

"But for me, ADAM isn't addictive. It also doesn't effect me the same way. For whatever reason it doesn't trigger a massive overload of stem cell production on use. Instead it occurs over time. A lot of splicers had growths and tumors because of the cellular overload but I don't have that problem. I can use as much as I want and not get messed up from it. The drawback though is that it takes time for powers to develop. Usually a few days at minimum but as long as a few weeks for full-fledged results."

"This is a lot of information." The quarian says. "Why are you telling us this?"

"She said I owed you guys some information!" I exclaim gesturing to the asari.

"I _assumed_ you came here illegally and got mugged and thrown in the lake!" The asari exclaims back at me.

"Fuck I should have just said that." I say, more so thinking out loud as I often tend to do rather than try to say anything to them.

The asari sighs. "Well, come to think of it you didn't _really_ explain how there was a knife in your chest."

"I was escaping the holding facility, which was about to sink and blow up, when another splicer attacked me. I was trying to fight him off but he managed to get the knife into my chest. I was able to fight him off in the end though." I say, my arms crossed.

"Hm. Well, okay. So what now?" The asari says.

"Names might be a good place to start." The quarian says. "My name is Nata'Acii nar Rayaa. Or just Nata."

Nata… Not familiar to me. I don't think she was in the games and if she was I don't remember her. In terms of her appearance there's not much to say.

"And I'm Nelyna." The asari, Nelyna says.

"Nelyna…" I say, thoughtful. She was the greeter in Mass Effect 1 if I recall correctly. No wonder she looks so familiar. She's gorgeous. She's like, super gorgeous. Which is weird because she has like tentacles instead of hair but still. Her facial markings are white, giving her a really exotic appearance. But what gets me is the fact that her upper lip is white as well as a small square on her lower lip, just giving her this really sexy, exotic look that I can't get over. Her voice is so kind and so are her eyes, and she's clearly really an incredible person.

"And you?" Nata asks me.

I'm quiet for a while. For a moment, I actually have trouble recalling my real name. When it does come to me, I realize it's been so long since I've used it or even said it out loud. In truth, it's hardly mine anymore. I'd gotten accustomed to being called by something else though. It's what they all called me down there.

"You can call me Splicer." I say.

They're both quiet for a bit. They look at each other and then back at me. Nata shrugs. "Works for me."

"Okay, Splicer." Nelyna says. "Listen, I have to get back to work. But here. Maybe this will help you."

She hands me something that looks vaguely like a credit card, except a little smaller and made of metal, not plastic. I turn it over and there is a small digital reader on the back. As if it can tell I turned it over to look at it, the display comes alive and reads: 100.

"Credits?" I say, curiously. So this is what they are. I don't know why but imagining it in the games I remember I thought they were like little coins. Funny that _that's_ what I remember and not many of the fine details about this game. I remember I thought credits were little coins, that the Consort's main greeter in Mass Effect 1 was named Nelyna, and not much else.

"Yeah." Nelyna says. "It's not much but it's what I can spare. You'll need more. You're going to need a passport, and identification. If your story is true, then there might be no record of you whatsoever. In which case, good, fake identification and a visa will cost a fortune. That at least can get you food and a haircut to change your appearance."

"Which will be necessary considering all the people that were taking pictures near the lake." Nata says.

"Thank you." I say to Nelyna.

"You're welcome." Nelyna says. "Now, I need to get ready to open the place up. It's really early right now, so you guys might be able to go somewhere without C-Sec giving you any trouble."

She begins to leave, but before she does I call out to her. "Why did you guys help me?"

Nelyna pauses and looks at me. "I don't know. There are people out there who just look like they really need all the help they can get. You're one of those people I suppose. Just, remember to pay it forward. There are a lot of good people out there, you know."

I decide that I'll remember that, and nod to her. "Thank you again."

"Don't mention it." She responds, leaving.

Nata stretches and sighs. "Well! Just you and me now!"

"Yeah…" I say looking at her. "Do you need something from me?"

"Yes and no." She responds. "Even before I saw your little super power display, you look like the capable sort of person. Gun-for-hire type. Anyway, everyone has been so generous in helping you thus far. That C-Sec officer, Nelyna, Cassandra… I however haven't done much."

"Uh-huh…" I say, looking at her.

"Yet! I can get you a place to stay." She says. "Somewhere where you won't be noticed easily. On top of that, I know someone who can make that identification for you."

"What's the catch?" I ask.

She puts her arms behind her back, trying to look innocent I suppose. "I'm not as naively gracious as Nelyna or Officer Sagaeus. I need your help with something."

"Cut to the chase." I say. "You've helped me, and I believe you'll continue to help me. Plus you know some secrets about me. So I don't really have a choice here do I?"

She laughs. "Not really I suppose. Okay I need you to get rid of some people for me."

"Like kill them?" I ask.

"Not necessarily." She responds shrugging. "I mean if it comes to that. They're just extremely problematic. I fear for my safety and the safety of others. They're dangerous and affiliated with a gang in the area. They've killed another quarian here on pilgrimage. They hate quarians."

"That's a shame." I say. "You're here on pilgrimage?"

"Yes, but we'll get to that." Nata says with a nod. "Will you help me or not?"

I shrug. "I guess so. Where can I find them?"

* * *

 **Later…**

I walk into a deep alleyway near the migrant shelter Nata brought me to. She told me that they don't keep any strict records of who comes and goes from the shelter, especially considering that new people come and often leave within a day or even less. She said it only costs 1 credit a night. Still, many can't afford to stay here for long. Nata tells me that everything on the Citadel is extremely marked up in price; the cost of living here is absolutely ridiculous. But despite that, people flock here in droves because it's the center of the galaxy. Not literally, of course, but in terms of politics and culture it's the center of the galaxy. Anyways, this migrant shelter makes a lot of sense. People come and go constantly and there are some private spaces I can make use of. For the time being, it's a good place to lay low.

Nata told me that the guys who live at the shelter who give her and the other quarians problems hang out in this alleyway. I see them. Two turians at the end of the alley, far from the street, laughing about something and leaning against a wall, smoking. I walk towards them with purpose but trying to look meek at the same time. One of the turians notices me and nods towards me, mumbling something to the other one.

They push off the wall and approach me. They're tough looking. Both large and scarred. One looks blinded in one eye with a good amount of his face covered in scars, the other is thicker in the arms than an average turian. I notice the scarred one has a pistol on his hip, the other turian appears unarmed.

The big armed turian crosses his arms, making them appear even larger. "Lost?"

"No, I'm here to talk to you guys." I say.

"That's not the best idea." The scarred ones says, putting a hand on the grip of his gun.

I look at it then back at him. "I just wanted to-"

I'm interrupted as I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's heavy and huge. I look at it, encompassing my whole shoulder from outer deltoid to the base of my neck. It has 3 thick fingers. I feel hot breath on the top of my head.

I look back, stepping away from the krogan who approached me from behind.

Fuck he's huge. Six and a half feet tall at the eye and at least eight inches taller at the top of his hump. Unlike the tall lean turians he's just a wall of meat.

"Human." The krogan growls. "You hear them. You're lost. So get loster before you're never found."

"That made absolutely no sense." I respond with a furrowed brow, turning back to the turians. "As I was saying. I came to warn you guys."

The scarred turian laughs and the other turian and the krogan laugh as well. "Warn us?! About?"

"That if you guys don't leave the quarians alone in the shelter and leave, you'll have to deal with me." I say.

"Uh-huh." The scarred turian says. "How about, you give us everything you have and we won't kill you and all those walking tin cans in the shelter?"

"Or, you could give me everything _you_ have." I say with a cocky grin.

The scarred turian looks angry and looks at the big armed one. He nods and the big armed turian reaches behind his back and draws a huge hunting knife. It's probably a good 14 inches from blade to pommel, most of it blade. Most likely he uses this either because he likes its intimidation factor or because he's one of those crazy people who likes to cut victims up or something.

"I'm gonna cut you into small little bits human." The big armed turian growls approaching me slowly.

"Mm, it was the second one." I mumble out loud raising my hand lazily and opening it.

An arc of bright electricity flashes out of my palm and sheathes the turian with the knife in a blink of an eye, the veins on my arm and face streaking black and then bright blue for just a moment. The turian spasms and makes a gurgling cry in a very cartoonish way before stumbling backwards and falling to the ground.

The scarred turian, looking stunned, looks back and forth between me and his friend several times. "Kollahr grab him!"

I feel the krogan's big hands grab my shoulder and the back of my head. He begins to squeeze and I feel like my head might pop like a grape. The scarred turian draws his pistol to shoot me. But just as he's clearing the holster I use telekinesis, the flesh of my arms and my eyes flashing with a yellow glow and pull the gun into my hand. I reach back and shoot the pistol. I hear the krogan grunt and his grip releases.

I lower my arm and bend it back, firing again and I hear the krogan yelp and hear him collapse to the ground.

"He shot my knee!" He shouts. "And my head!"

"What the fuck!" The scarred turian says looking terrified, poised to flee.

I look at the pistol and toss it aside. Looking back at the scarred turian. I slowly raise my hand at the scarred turian and I shrug.

"I warned you." I snap my fingers and the turian bursts into flames, fire streaking up my arm as I do so.

He begins with a small squeak of fear as he's immolated from head to toe in a pillar of fire, and he then starts screaming in one long blood curdling screech, flailing his arms and falling to the ground. He rolls about fruitlessly for a moment before he stops moving, his screech dying away as well.

The other turian, is just now beginning to recover from the shock I gave him, crawling away. I use telekinesis to pull the gun back into my hand and I walk over to him. He notices and rolls onto his back submissively, palms up.

"Please!" He says. "Don't! I-I-I won't fuck with the quarians no more!"

"Mm-hm. Call me cynical." I say shooting him in the face.

I bend down and pick up his big knife and walk over to the krogan who's snarling, trying to stand.

"You fucking freak." He snarls, stumbling to his feet. "You hiding some tech mods in you? Implanting? What?"

"Sure." I say approaching him. "You need to get your priorities straight."

He takes a wild swing with his huge fist at my head but I duck and kick his wounded knee as hard as I can. He roars in pain but stays standing, taking another swing at me. His blow manages to connect with the side of my head, grazing it more than anything but the force behind it is like getting hit with a baseball bat.

I stumble to the side, shooting with the pistol. I see blood spurt from his other knee and he hisses, dropping down. I get up and shoot his first knee again and he stifles a scream, flopping down onto his back.

I step up to him, feeling blood trickle down the side of my head and grab him by the head plate. He reaches up, clawing at my arms and shirt until I take the large knife and wedge it underneath his head plate, pressing it deep and feeling some connective tissue part. I feel him freeze. Huh, another small detail I remember. Of all things. Funny what comes to mind even though it's been more than 6 years since I've held a video game controller.

"Ow!" He whimpers. "Hey don't! Please!"

"I won't if you cooperate. If you don't I'll tear it right off. What gang are you guys with?" I ask.

"Zakera Zesters!" He responds.

"That's the dumbest fucking name I've ever heard." I respond. "What are you guys 14?"

"What?" He asks, starting to sound like he's sobbing. "Just please don't rip off my head plate!"

"I won't if you tell me where your guys' base is." I respond.

"It's in an apartment building on this ward. Platinum Place. Apartment 717. The boss is usually there." The krogan says desperately. "It's near the Silversun Strip and Shin Akiba."

"Alright so if I take out this knife and walk away what are you going to do?" I ask him.

"I'm going to leave." He says.

"You're not going to go warn your boss right?" I ask.

"No." He responds, crying.

"Or?"

"Or you'll kill me?" He asks.

"I'm not just going to kill you." I growl, leaning forward and putting pressure on the blade. "I'm going to ruin you. I'm going to do you like I did your friends. I'll burn you like bloody meat. I'll strip your skin off your fucking bones. I'll electrocute you until your eyes fucking shrivel up. I'll do more than fucking rip your goddamn head plate off. I won't just fucking end you. I'll fucking dissect you to find out how to better cause krogan pain. I'll use you like a fucking lab rat. I'll turn you inside out, cut you to pieces and put you back together again just to see what makes you tick. I'll sear your flesh crispy and leave you for varren to eat and then shit out. Do you fucking understand me?"

"Yeah." He responds quietly.

"Okay." I remove the blade. "Get out of here."

He slowly gets to his feet, his krogan physiology already healing the gunshot wounds to his legs. "What are you going to do to the boss and the other boys?"

"The fuck do you think I'll do to them?" I respond. "Get out of here and don't come back. Leave those quarians alone."

"Yeah." He responds, limping away.

For the sake of moral clarity I didn't kill that guy and I don't feel like I'll have to. I think I got my point across. I search the bodies of the two turians for anything of use. The one with the scars is burnt to an unrecognizable level. His body is still burning though the fire has died way down. The other turian however has some useful items on him. I find another credit chit as well a sheathe for the knife I took off him. I take both and the belt he was wearing with the sheath still looped onto it. I buckle the belt around my waist and start to walk off, but hear some quiet beeping. I look down and see the belt has a small square box, sort of like a pager but less fat and more flat and rectangular with some dull colored lights on the exterior. Perplexed, I look at it and then I notice some beeping from the dead turian. I walk over to him and examine his body and see a pair of small metal bands on his forearm are both beeping. Odd. I remove the bands and attach the larger one to my forearm near the elbow and the other on my wrist, as I saw the turian had them.

As I remove the wristband from the turian and put it on, there's a quiet hum and then a pleasant melody.

" _Interfacing with new user."_ A disembodied voice says, seeming to come from somewhere near me, behind me, and in front of me all at once. _"Scanning physiology… Adjusting projector fit."_

The bands on my arm tighten to form a snug fit around my wrist and forearm. They don't bite into my skin though, in fact as I flex my forearm the band changes shape with it.

" _Activating microfabricator: Communicator for human client. Would you prefer the default earpiece-microphone combo or something else?"_ The voice asks.

"Er… how about something more… tactical?" I say.

" _Scanning. Acknowledged."_ I feel a vibration at my hip and look down at the box on my belt. An orange glow of what looks like an earpiece and half collar appears before being rapidly formed into an earpiece and throat microphone. I catch it before it falls to the ground and put it on. The throat mic is subtle, fitting around the base of my throat the same way the bands on my arm do. The earpiece is similarly very comfortable, subtle and secure in my left ear.

" _Hello. I am your new Ariake Technologies CR-XXI Version 7.84 Omni-Tool. You are now the proud owner of a state of the art omni-tool. Though this is a civilian-spec device, it is equipped with a vast array of state of the art programs designed for the harsh wildernesses of colonies. Would you like a detailed overview of your device's capabilities?"_ The voice asks, this time, projecting through the communicator in my ear only.

"No, thank you." I respond. "Maybe later?"

" _Very well. Resetting to factory default and entering standby mode. You may control this omni-tool via gestures for now while we calibrate your neurological system so that you may control this device with thoughts."_

"Fuck that's cool." I mumble, thinking out loud again. I have a tendency to do that. I give my arm a deliberate rotation and an orange gauntlet-like display appears around my arm. I type on a few buttons experimentally before lowering my arm, the display disappearing intelligently.

Well that's fantastic. One thing off my to-do list. I leave the alley with my new equipment. I head into a nearby clothing store and buy a jacket. I do this, primarily to conceal the horizontally sheathed knife at my lower back as well as to have a place to put my pistol. It folds up in a nice little package, but it'd be nice to put it somewhere other than my waistband.

The jacket I buy is a simple utility jacket of time-less design. It's cheap with a few pockets and long enough that it covers my waist and lower back. I leave the store and head back to the shelter. The shelter is quite large and heavily trafficked. In addition to housing migrants and refugees, they also help establish visas for more permanent stays. This wouldn't work for me because all the people here already have temporary stay visas and documentation. I have nothing.

I find Nata, which is difficult considering the size and density of rooms in this place as well as the number of people here. But she's where she was before I left. Towards the back on the first floor in a quarantined area for quarians only. I find her outside of it.

"Did you get rid of them?" She asks, not bothering to be quiet as I approach.

"Yeah. All three." I respond.

"They're dead?" She asks, rubbing her hands together.

"The turians are. I spared the krogan. But trust me. He won't be giving you or your friends any more issues." I respond. "But listen, if I know anything about gangs, they'll be back in bigger numbers to find out who hit their guys."

"Yeah I was worried about that too, but I'm more of a 'one thing at a time' sort of person." She says.

"Mm-hm. Well this is the next thing. We're going to have to deal with the rest of the gang as well." I respond, looking about to make sure no one is eavesdropping. "Or at the very least, their leader."

"We?" She asks, rubbing her hands together again, her suit making a slight squeaky noise as she does.

"Quit that." I say giving her hands a light tap with the back of my hand. "It gives away you're nervous. And the squeaking sound is silly."

"Sorry. But what am I supposed to do?" She asks, quailing a little.

I laugh a little and roll my eyes. "Well, nothing, really. I was just saying we because _you_ roped me into this in the first place."

"Right." She responds. "Okay well, what are _you_ planning to do about it."

"I'm going to go to the place and kill the boss." I say.

She's quiet for a bit. "That all?"

"Well, I'm not good at much else." I say with a shrug. "Listen, I'm winging this as much as you are. I'll need you to back me up though. Just keep a lookout for me to make sure nobody comes up."

"Okay I can do that." She says, wringing her hands again.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Now? We're going now?" She asks, wringing her hands some more. The sound it makes it hilariously cute. It's absolutely unbearable. Sickeningly cute, really.

I give her hands a gentle pat with the back of my hand. "Yeah. We should do this sooner. People might already be looking for me because of what happened at the lake and from what I did in the alley. I can get this done now and then get a haircut to change my appearance somewhat."

"Makes sense." She responds with a nod. "Okay let's go."


	3. Keeper

**Mass Effect**

 **Massive Shock Redux**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Mass Effect or BioShock franchises or any characters or property that BioWare or 2K games has staked claim upon. Original Characters that I create may be used or distributed for use at my leisure.**

" **Happiness is a choice."**

 **~Barry Neil Kaufman~**

 **Ch. 3: Keeper**

 **3:57 PM December 29, 2181**

* * *

The cab ride to the Platinum Place apartment building is quiet and kind of long. I expected Nata somewhat to be talking. Guess I can get conversation going.

I look towards her. "How did you end up coming to the Cit-"

"What's it like?" She asks, interrupting me.

"What?" I ask.

"Being able to do what you do?" She asks.

"You mean the powers or killing people on a whim?" I ask, slacking back into the seat of the cab.

Which by the way is flying. It's a flying car and a really smooth ride, might I add. The interior isn't all that bad at all either.

"Both I suppose." Nata responds looking at me.

"Uh, well killing is never easy. Back in Rapture, I had to to survive and at some point it didn't feel wrong. Like the things I were killing weren't even people anymore. They couldn't be fixed, they didn't have family or friends, they were just insane, ADAM-addicted killers. I guess that mindset sort of carried over because I really don't feel anything. Killing those two turians didn't make me feel anything." I say.

"Maybe it's because they're not human." She responds.

"Sorry?" I ask.

"Well, think about it. You're saying those other splicers weren't human anymore so you didn't have a problem killing them. You don't have any problem killing those turians either, probably because you don't see them as people." She says, matter-of-factly.

I'm silent for a bit, contemplative. "Hm. Well, I guess I'll have to check that behavior… I'm not racist."

"I notice a tendency for humans to say that." Nata replies.

"Anyways, you were curious about the powers thing?" I ask.

"Yeah, what do they feel like?" She asks.

"Uncomfortable usually. Sometimes painful." I reply. "The fire one hurts, obviously. The electricity one feels like… a super bad cramping. The telekinesis one gives me a really bad migraine."

"Telekinesis?" She asks, incredulous. "Okay, what can't you do?"

"Uh, what do you mean?" I ask.

"I mean, this is movie made-up stuff." She says with a shake of her head. "Telekinesis?"

I activate Telekinesis and pull the credit chit out of my pocket with it into my hand. I catch it deftly and then make it hover above my palm. The veins of my hand glow with a faint amber glow.

"Your nose is bleeding." Nata says.

"Oh, yeah that happens." I say, deactivating Telekinesis and activating Winter's Blast. Icicles of varying length shoot out from under my skin on the back of my hand and forearm and the air around my arm gets foggy with cold. A thin layer of frost forms on my arm.

"This one isn't so bad. Kind of achy and the icicles coming out hurts." I say, deactivating the plasmid after a moment. "They all kind of hurt but after a while it becomes bearable."

"Is there a reason they don't hurt?" She asks.

"Well yeah actually, now that you mention it." I respond. "The human body, no matter how much physical or genetic modification you go through, isn't meant to be able to withstand a few million volts of electricity coursing through your veins or flames engulfing your arms or sub zero temperatures. Keeping them on too long could cause more permanent damage so they hurt to keep me from keeping them on too long. The plasmids all come with a natural healing factor to offset any damage they cause but they can't repair any super severe damage caused by prolonged use."

"That makes sense. Like a failsafe of sorts." She says with a nod. She's quiet for a moment and then continues, "I remember you talking about the stuff, ADAM?"

"Yes, that's what we use to produce the changes." I say.

"What did it look like again?" Nata asks.

"Well the refined form came in different colors when you synthesized it with a plasmid. Most commonly I saw it as a glowing red because it was recycled from the blood of dead splicers. But in its unrefined form it was green and glowing." I reply.

"Huh. Funny." She says, thoughtfully.

"What is?" I ask.

"Well, one time I was scavenging for parts down near the dumps which are usually situated on the lowest levels near Keeper protein vats. Anyway, there are a lot of Keepers there at all times. They clean the dump and remove trash but it all gets replaced anyways. While I was there I guess one of them accidentally came into contact with some hazardous waste and cause a small explosion. I was nearby and came running to see if anyone was hurt. The only injured was the Keeper who caused the explosion. It was dying and pretty badly hurt. I remember its blood being strangely green and glowing." Nata tells me.

"No." I say, incredulous. "That's not possible."

Nata shrugs. "I know. Totally implausible."

"Impossible." I correct.

"Implausible." She says, as if confirming, with a stark nod.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever, we're here."

The cab touches down at the end of a large strip mall that looks absolutely luxurious. This whole area is pretty luxurious and I see a lot of humans in the area. There are a lot of shops, clubs, restaurants and residences in this pretty densely packed apart of town. For the most part I've seen a lot of elcor, hanar and volus on this ward, with plenty of the other species as well but a much greater number of the former 3 species as well. But in this area there are a particularly large number of humans.

"What district is this?" I ask Nata.

"It's called Shin Akiba." Nata replies. "It used to be an industrial area before the humans came around. After they joined Citadel Space this part of the ward was designated for human consumer development. It's been built up a lot since. You humans don't waste time."

"We sure don't." I say with a laugh. "Shall we then?"

"Ugh. I think I'll wait outside." Nata replies.

"At the very least, watch the floor for me. You don't need to be near the apartment itself at all." I say. "But first, I'm going to have a word with the building manager."

We head into the rather nice apartment building into a fairly sparse lobby. There are several couches and chairs about, with a glass wall on the left side of the room. On the other side of the glass wall is a small fitness center, equipped with ellipticals, treadmills, etc. In front of me are 4 large elevators and a small door which I assume is stair access. On my right is a large concierge desk with a lone turian behind it.

He's older if I had to guess. His face's plate like skin is covered with tiny lines like wrinkles and he looks more slouched and hunched. He's wearing a pair of small reading glasses and is reading a data pad. He has some tea on the counter in front of him and he's wearing a sweater. Very Mr. Rogers sort of guy.

I approach him. "Excuse me."

He glances up and places his data pad. "Welcome to Platinum Place apartments. How can I help you?"

"Are you the building's manager?" I ask.

He nods. "Yes. I own this building. Haeris Dalarian. You are?"

"Splicer." I reply. "I had some questions about the residents of apartment 717…"

He glances about him and looks back at me. "Are you C-Sec?"

I shake my head. "No. I had a run in with some of them earlier. We had an some interaction, but I took care of it. I was wondering if you'd like me to take care of the rest of them as well."

"I see. So you're the exterminator I called then?" He says, a bit more loudly. "Thanks for coming so quickly. I have a pest problem."

I nod, understanding of his guile. "Mm-hm. Exterminator. Can we speak somewhere privately?"

He gestures for me to follow him into an office behind the concierge desk. He takes his tea with him. Nata and I enter his small office. There are is a large terminal, complete with security monitors as well as a refrigerator, desk and chairs for several occupants. Needless to say, this room is not decorated at all and is pretty cramped.

Nata and I sit across from his desk.

"So." He starts. "What is it exactly you're offering?"

"I'll get rid of the pests in 717. Pro bono." I say, frankly. "I just need you to help keep it quiet. And clean it up afterwards."

He folds his hands and frowns. "They cause trouble. They're conducting illegal activity in my building. I know they are. I don't have evidence though. I've tried to evict them you know, but Citadel law protects human residents of this district. Moreover, they don't have a record of late rent payments or damaging my property. But they've cause me trouble, nonetheless. I asked them to leave, and they threatened me, you know."

"Sorry to hear that." I reply. "I can make that go away for you."

"This seems too good to be true." Haeris Dalarian replies. "I have a hard time believing a random stranger would come into my building, offering to solve my problem for me, when he had no knowledge of this problem, and doing it for nothing."

"Well not nothing." I say with a grin. "And you're clever, sir. I understand your hesitation. You can search me if you like. My friend and I have had run ins with their people before and they've caused us harm. Like you, I'm just sick of it. So I'm taking care of the issue. At any rate, since you're soon going to have a vacancy in your beautiful building I was wondering if you could put me on the waitlist."

He nods thoughtfully. "Okay. I can do that. I'll keep an eye on your via the security cams. I'm going to put out a floor-wide notice that the apartment doors will be closed temporarily while the halls are being vacuumed and decontaminated. You'll need this too."

He hands me what looks like a mask of sorts. It's solid metal and covers the forehead, ears and jaw. It has an adjustable metal strap around the back of the head to secure it. The only features on the front are two small eye holes with dark glass in them.

"What is it?" I ask, taking it and turning it over.

"It'll keep your eyes from getting sucked out of your head." Dalarian says. "The hall will be a total vacuum. The mask will keep you from dying immediately but your flesh shouldn't be exposed to a total vacuum either. Your skin needs air too. As a result of the lack of atmospheric pressure, the water in the tissues of your flesh will vaporize. This will be very uncomfortable and you'll swell up quite a bit after 10 seconds or so. It'll go away once you're in normal atmosphere again but if you're in the hall too long it might cause permanent damage. So don't stay in the hall for more than a few minutes."

"I see. And when I get to the apartment?" I ask, more than a little anxious about the notion of swelling like a balloon.

"There's an antechamber of sorts in every apartment. It's a safety against depressurization of the building. Going into the antechamber, you'll have to wait a few minutes for it to restore pressure. They'll know you're there, though. I can try and-"

I laugh. "No, it's fine. I can handle it."

"Are you crazy?" Nata asks. "That's suicide."

I shrug, grin and put the mask on. "For some."

"What?" Dalarian shouts at me. "You need to turn it on we can't hear you!"

I roll my eyes and let Dalarian turn on the mask for me. "I said… never mind but it was cool."

"Mm-hm." Nata mumbles.

I sigh and leave the office, heading towards the elevator. I take it up to the 7th floor. Along the way, I hear Haeris's voice come over the loudspeaker.

" _Greetings Platinum Place residents, this the building's owner, Haeris Dalarian. I apologize for the inconvenience but the 7_ _th_ _floor halls will be temporarily shut down for the next 20 minutes for routine vacuum decontamination. For your safety, please vacate the halls and remain in your apartments until the floor is repressurized. I will be locking and sealing the outer doors for your safety. Thank you."_

I make sure the mask is sealed to my face before I take out my pistol. It's folded up like they do in the games. I turn it over for a way to open it up. Eventually I find that if I deliberately move my hand toward where the grip aught to be it opens up, somehow sensing my intention to grab it.

I'm not sure I like that but whatever. I grip the pistol tightly as I reach the 7th floor.

" _Depressurizing. Standby."_ An artificial voice says through the elevator's loudspeaker.

I feel the air getting sucked out of the room and after a moment I start to feel uncomfortable. My whole body feels like it's under extreme atmospheric pressure rather than the lack of it. I look at my arm which is turning red and then purple, swelling up pretty quickly.

Ew. Oh Jesus. My clothing is getting really snug and I can feel the mask biting into the swollen flesh on my skull. Better hurry.

I rush, as quickly as my rapidly swelling body will take me, down the hall towards apartment 771. Wait. Or was it 717? Fuck I should have written it on my arm.

" _717 is to your left."_ Haeris Dalarian's voice says through my earpiece.

"Thanks." I wheeze, the mask compressing my face and throat.

I hurry to the left and after what feels like eternity I make it to the apartment. As I reach the door, I press myself against it and it opens. I step into a small chamber, illuminated dimly by a small blue-white light. A panel on the wall reads out that the chamber is repressurizing. I feel my flesh rapidly returning to normal. Jesus I've never felt relief like this before. God that was so uncomfortable.

I adjust my grip on the pistol and crack my neck. Okay, maybe I shouldn't go in there guns blazing. I put the pistol in the waistband of my pants at my lower back and the get ready with some plasmids. I feel like my body is low on EVE. My energy levels have been feeling pretty low. Let's hope I can pull at least a few plasmids off. Okay I'm going to try and fake something here.

The door opens and I collapse inside of the apartment onto my knees and partly onto my hands. I rip the mask off of my face and gasp like I'm desperate for air.

"Holy fuck man." Somebody says. "What the fuck happened to this guy?"

"Get him up!" I hear someone else shout.

I fake a gasp and choke for breath. "Got… locked outside my apartment. Bad timing."

"Fuck dude. Get him some water or something." Someone says as somebody drags me to my feet, depositing me on a couch.

Someone hands me a glass of water. I take a moment to look around the room.

There are 3 people in this room with me right now. The one on my left is a human, the one ahead a turian, and the one on my right a drell. This is the first drell I've seen here so far, demonstrating the scarcity of their people I suppose. Real diverse gang, got to say.

This apartment is a corner apartment, so a large window taking up the whole wall is on my right. Ahead of me is a small hallway with 3 doorways. On my left is an open kitchen with an island. I look at the people in the room.

"Listen guy." one of the gangsters, the turian, says to me. "You're good now. Lockdown's almost over. You can't stay here."

I just nod in response, maintaining the ruse. I feel kind of bad for killing these guys. I mean they are helping me even when they don't know me.

"What apartment did you live in again?" Another of the gangsters asks frowning.

I look up at him. I see him reaching behind his back for something. I activate Telekinesis, my skin flashing with a yellow glow and a distortion appearing around my hand as I pull my pistol from my waistband at my back into my hand, in the blink of an eye. That maneuver took a lot of practice in Rapture, being able to pull a weapon into my palm, grip first and facing the right direction and doing it all quickly.

Faster than the gangster can even pull a weapon out I've shot him in the chest 3 times. The other two both recoil in alarm. I quickly Winter's Blast the one on my left with my free hand, freezing him pretty solid. Simultaneously, to the one on my right, I leap to my feet and throw my elbow into the his face. He stumbles back, greenish blood flying from his face as he stumbles back and collapses.

The semi-frozen gangster breaks out of the ice, stumbling back, screaming bloody murder. The skin on the front half of his body is red like it'd been burnt. Something super cold tends to have the same effect on the skin as something super hot.

I quickly turn to him and shoot him a few times in the chest as well. As I fire off the third shot I feel arms grapple me from behind. The gangster whose nose I broke with my elbow traps me in a half nelson, one arm around my neck the other trapping my shooting arm. He pulls me backward, trying to gain the upper hand. Thanks to years of survival in Rapture, I'm nothing but wiry muscle. I over-power him quite easily, bending forwards and throwing my leg back in an attempt to throw him off my back, but he's more skilled than I initially thought. He hooks a leg around my waist at the last moment and keeps himself secured on my back. Fuck.

I growl through gritted teeth, foamy spittle flying from my lips as I struggle to get this guy off me. I stumble backwards and slam into a wall as hard as I can, slamming him against it. No luck he holds on just as tightly, if not tighter. Finally, a messy plan speeding into mind, I hiss and let go of the arm wrapped around my throat with my left hand, allowing him to cinch ever tighter on my throat. I feel my head pound rapidly, and my vision quickly begins to fade as he skillfully cuts blood off from my brain, lifting his arm up quickly, his legs lifting his body as well. Just as I hoped. With my last precious second of consciousness, I use Telekinesis to pull my gun from my right hand into my left which has more freedom of movement. I press the gun into my right side, as far across as I can go and I pull the trigger twice. He was skinnier than I was and centered on my body well. I couldn't reach around either side so I had to take some drastic measures.

I hear him grunt and his grips slackens. I take a wheezing breath in and stumble forwards, pointing the gun back at him ready to finish it. But I look at him and he's dead, the two bullets pierced his diaphragm area. I look down at my side. The bullets pierced my right oblique, maybe an inch away from the edge and angled up. That lucky angle was what did the drell in. Otherwise I'd probably be dead right now. Damn he was a tough son of a bitch.

"What the fuck?!" Someone shouts as they barge in the room.

I immediately drop to the floor on instinct. And a good instinct it was too because no sooner had my head dropped below the couch than bullets bit into the wall and the backrest for the couch. I activate Telekinesis, feeling like this is the last I've got in me, and I push the couch forwards across the floor with all the power I can muster.

The couch slides forwards so rapidly and with such force, that when it hits the glass-top coffee table in front of it, the table explodes in a shower of glass and the couch flies into the air. The person who shot at me screams as the couch slams into them, launching them down the hall, the couch bouncing off the wall and skittering down the hall a few feet after the gangster.

I get up to my feet groggily and feel some blood trickle down my face. Huh I guess I didn't duck fast enough. I feel press the back of my palm against the bullet graze on the side of my head and walk forward, a little awkwardly at first.

"Awww fuck!" The gangster moans from the hall as I approach. "Fucking prick!"

I climb over the coach and walk up to him. He's pretty fucked up. Cut up from thousands of flying glass shards, big wounds on his head from the couch as well as a broken arm. I kneel next to him, kicking his gun away as I do. I grab a fistful of his jacket and lift him up off the ground slightly.

"Hey." I say, panting. "You shot me in the fucking head."

"You exploded a fucking couch at me." He snaps back, voice somewhat slurred and his eyes dilated hugely. He definitely has a concussion. "How the fuck did you even do that?!"

"You the boss of the… Zakera Zesters?" I ask rolling my eyes.

"That guy over there was." He says blearily, pointing at the guy I shot first, the turian.

"Look man I just took out your whole gang in one day and it's up to you whether you leave here in a body bag or on a gurney because of a really nasty fall down the elevator shaft." I say, turning my pistol over in my hand to demonstrate I mean business.

"It sounds like I die in both those scenarios… objectively." He responds, eyes lolling a bit.

"No I… Fuck, no I mean if I let you live, what are you going to tell C-Sec?" I ask.

He looks at me, eyes dilated and wet. "Uh… Oh! I get it. I fell down the elevator shaft… somehow."

I pause. "Ugh… this is too complicated. Listen just get the fuck out of here before I change my mind."

"Uh-huh, yeah." He says, getting to his feet shakily.

"You going to keep committing crimes?" I ask as he hobbles towards the door.

"Uh, nah. I'll probably head to Earth to… get a normal job or something." He replies, opening the front door.

He enters the antechamber and the door shuts behind him. I look around the apartment for a moment before I remember something and check the time. Oh shit. I run over to the door and to a panel next to it. I activate the panel which appears to be some kind of peephole device. Upon activating it I get a view of the inside of the antechamber as well as the hall outside the outer door. The outer door opens and the gang leader inside immediately starts choking for air, collapsing out of the antechamber into the hall. His face spews blood almost immediately, I assume as a result of his eyes getting sucked out of his head. I see the blood begin bubbling and vaporizing instantaneously as it collects on the ground. I quickly get the mask Dalarian gave me and put it on, exiting the apartment and dragging the corpse back inside. Well that problem fixed itself I suppose. His concussion probably made him forget about the depressurized hallway.

I use my omni-tool to call Nata with some difficulty. She put her contact information into it before we came here for me and showed me how to call her. Still it's not entirely intuitive or user friendly. This thing will take a lot of getting used to.

" _Hey, you're alive."_ Nata says, answering the call.

"Mm-hm." I reply. "There are some corpses up here."

" _Haeris said he's going to blackout the security cams for a few moments after the hall repressurizes. We're going to drop them in the garbage chutes. The apartments will stay locked though so we won't be bothered. He also said the total vacuum in the hall should have covered any noise you might have made."_ She says. _"We're on our way up to help you clean up."_

"Okay, I'll start trying to clean these dudes up." I reply, ending the call.

I sigh and look at the corpses. What a mess.

* * *

 **Later…**

I exit the elevator and head straight to Dalarian's office. He's sitting in there with Nata, who looks uncomfortable. Dalarian is using a white towel to wipe blood off his hands and looks up at me as I enter.

"Thanks." He says. "Despite the mess we had to clean up… Thank you. I still don't entirely understand why you did that."

"Not really for you, to be honest." I say, turning then to Nata. "Well, they won't be a problem for you anymore or any of the others at the shelter."

She nods. "Thank you. It's a relief to be rid of them honestly. They would tamper with our suits at night and shake us down for anything we had when we'd come home."

"Well Mr. Dalarian, this is goodbye. I hope your building is quieter now." I say, turning to go with Nata.

He stands and shows us out. Before we leave however, he puts a hand on my shoulder and presses a credit chit into my palm. "Your fee, Mr. Exterminator. I know how to get in touch, if I need anything else."

I take the credit chit and nod with gratitude and catch up with Nata. We get into a cab and take it back to the shelter, mostly quiet on the way but happy to see we're 2,000 credits richer. At the shelter, there are several C-Sec officers standing near the mouth of the alleyway where I killed those two guys earlier.

"Maybe you should go get that haircut." Nata says leaning close. "There's a place nearby, down that way. I'll see if I can find out if they have any leads or anything. Or if they're looking for someone that looks like you maybe."

"Thank you." I say quietly, touching her forearm and then stepping away in the direction she mentioned. It doesn't take me long to find the place. Walking inside, a young human looks at me and rolls his eyes, smiling.

"Well, good-God-damn-it-all!" He exclaims. "Look at you! You're a regular sasquatch walking in here with all that hair and a big ol' beard."

"Mm-hm." I mumble, a little awkwardly, feeling scrutinized. "I'm not really picky, not anymore at least. Just don't do anything weird like color my hair or give me frosted tips please. Just something simple and timeless. And that looks good, of course."

"Well you know I can do that for you!" He says guiding me to a chair. "MARY! Close the whole dang shop I need to focus!"

I sit in the chair nervously and try to relax as he gets to work.

* * *

 **Later…**

The excitable barber does a few finishing touches and turns me around to face the mirror. My breath catches in my throat and I swallow.

God I look so different.

Before I was taken from the first world, my home-world, I was stocky and tan. Now, unfortunately, I'm much more pale but at least I don't look sickly. I'm taller now and much more muscular, much more proportionally and conventionally attractive. But my face. Good god I haven't seen it like this in years. My face is longer, where as when I left the first time it was more round. It's gaunter and coupled with the dark circles around my eyes I look like I work 2 10 hour shifts every day. My eyes are still green, those haven't changed. In fact they stand out more due to a reddish hue on the edges of my eyelids from months of sleep deprivation. My jawline is more defined than it was and still angles steeply. My chin is more square, and looks better now I think. My nose is still straight, thank god. And my skin looks healthy, despite my relatively poor nutrition these past few years. The barber left a nice, neat stubble on my face. He left it pretty natural looking and I appreciate that look.

The barber cut my hair nicely. I like it. It's your average side part, with the sides shaved close and tapered towards the top. My hair is parted on the left and the swept to the right and backwards, giving my hair some nice light volume and shape. I feel the sides of my head and sigh. I look tired. But I look very good for once. I'm handsome. I feel handsome. I haven't felt like this in years. I haven't even thought about this in years. I haven't felt like my appearance mattered for a long time.

At least I look different. Totally different from the ragged guy with wild the mop of hair that came to the Citadel and immediately started messing with stuff all over the place. I get up and sigh again.

"Thank you very much." I say, handing him a credit chit. "Charge your usual fee, and then add 30 percent tip please."

He smiles and does so with his omni-tool, handing the credit chit back. "Thank _you_! It's not often I get to have so much material to work with. Come on back if you ever want a touch up!"

I smile tiredly and leave the barbershop walking back to the shelter. C-Sec is still here, along with some crime scene investigators and a few detectives. None of them are Garrus though, sadly. Or at least I don't think they are. Turians look so much more realistic in… real life. They look larger in person than they did in the game and much more detailed. I don't know if it'd be easy to identify Garrus at first glance or not. As I walk towards the shelter, a detective waves me down.

"Excuse me!" He says waving at me and moving towards me.

I don't panic, or try not to. I also make an effort to look natural. I'll say, the one thing that Rapture didn't prepare me for? Dealing with law enforcement. There wasn't any, you see. I stop walking and wait for the turian to approach me.

"Sir, how are you tonight?" He starts.

I shrug trying to look natural. "I'm okay. What's going on here?"

"Double homicide. Looks like a gang hit, maybe." The detective responds, his omni-tool appearing as he starts typing information down. "Were you in the area in the last few hours?"

I scratch the back of my head. "Uh, well I stay in the shelter."

He nods. "Hm, I see. Did you happen to see anything out of the ordinary?"

"Not really. I've been out for a few hours now." I respond. "Do you have a suspect? Anyone I should look out for?"

He nods. "Yeah, just keep an eye out for any humans, medium toned skin, athletic build, maybe about your height. Lot of light-brown hair."

"Got it." I respond. "Your name?"

"Chellick. Detective Decian Chellick." He responds extending a hand.

I shake it. It's horribly awkward feeling due its gargantuan size as compared to mine as well as the fact that he only has 3 digits. His name is also familiar. I recall him being a minor named character from the first game. I don't remember what he had to do with the game though. "Okay Detective Chellick. I'll keep an eye out and call if I see anyone like that."

"Listen, we'd appreciate any help. One of our CSIs is processing civilians who pass through. Don't worry, she's not going to take down much of your personal information, just a name, contact number and photograph. Don't worry, we're not going to process you and you're not a suspect or anything, but it gives us a database of people we've talked to and a record. Would you mind just having a word with her for a moment before you head on your way?" Chellick asks.

I ponder momentarily but decide to go with it to appear less suspicious. "Sure, yeah."

"Great." Chellick responds. "Just step over there."

I go to where he directed and stand in a small processing area surrounded by white curtains. There's a chair so I sit in it while officers and detectives bustle around, passing through the area frequently. After a moment, one of the curtains opens and a young human holding a data pad enter. I swallow; she's very cute.

She's not very tall, maybe a foot shorter than me with a petite, athletic build. Her skin has an olive complexion and a slight tan. She has gentle, cute features: big eyes, a small nose, plump shapely lips, a heart-shaped face. Her hair is a dark brown and cut into a short pixie cut, sort of. It's cropped close on the sides and back and it's messy and boyish on top. Her eyes are also a stunning dark green. Her most striking feature to me though are a dusting of light freckles across her nose and cheekbones. I forgot how easily freckles make me just swoon. Damn she's attractive. Oh that's also something Rapture hasn't prepared me for. Talking to women.

Now, don't get me wrong. I have my priorities straight. I know talking to this person shouldn't be, and isn't, high on my list of priorities. I'm just saying that now that I'm in this position, I'm quickly realizing how fucking woefully unprepared I am just to say something witty or charming. Or just to fucking say hello. I spent the last 6 years in an underwater hellscape surrounded by tumor-ridden Splicers, many of whom got chop-shopped by that psycho plastic surgeon. Needless to say, I haven't been in _this_ position in a while.

"Hi." The attractive CSI says, standing in front of me with her data pad. "Thanks for cooperating in our investigation."

"No worries." I respond, my voice cracking a little. I internally berate myself.

"I'm just going to take a quick photo…" She says lifting her data pad up. "You don't need to smile or anything."

The back of the data pad flashes, taking my picture supposedly. It's occurring to me quickly now that I'm here that I shouldn't be here. But I don't want to appear uncooperative. Let's just hope that don't have good facial identification and that Dalarian wiped the security footage like he said he would.

"Alright, not bad." She says. "You look tired."

"Sort of." I say with a shrug. "Long… couple of days."

"Staying in the shelter?" She asks, looking at her data pad.

"For the time being." I say, suddenly embarrassed about it.

She smiles warmly. "No need to be bashful about it. I stay here for a while when I first got here. Nothing to be ashamed of. It's expensive to live here."

"Tell me about it." I say. "Did you always work for C-Sec?"

She shakes her head. "Not initially. I wanted to be a journalist for a bit but I realized in school I'm not the… outspoken type? I don't know, but I went for being a C-Sec officer, failed out of the training and ended up in analytics and found I had a knack for that."

"So you're not a CSI?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I work in cyber crimes, which subject straddles a bit in some areas. I also fill in with the CSIs when they're short-handed. They brought me here to check out some security footage but it was corrupted so they're having me process folks."

I nod. "I see… I'm sorry, what was your name?"

She laughs suddenly. "Okay, what the hell? Here I am, talking to you like we're on a blind date when I'm supposed to be the one asking you questions… I'm Alex."

I smile in response. "Nice to meet you… listen, I don't mean to be rude. I like chatting with you. But I do need to head back in…"

"Right, right. Sorry. Can I just get your omni-tool number for the record?" She asks.

I nod and open it up. It takes me an embarrassingly long moment to find the number but I show it to her once I have. She nods and smiles at me.

"Okay, thanks!" She says. "You're free to go."

"Thank you, it was nice meeting you." I say, leaving the processing area. I walk into the shelter and find Nata, who is at present talking to a few other quarians.

"Lot of cops around here." I say, walking up to her.

She turns and takes a step back. "Whoa! Look at you! You're all… Different looking!"

"Mm. Thanks I think." I say, a little embarrassed.

"Probably for the best." She says. "Their description of a suspect is a bit off. They mentioned the suspect had an afro… I mean you _kind of_ did but not really."

"Thanks." I mumble. "Is there a place I can sleep?"

She nods and takes me to a large room full of bunk beds with lockers and many humans of different shapes, sizes and levels of dress. Most look like normal people though.

"Here, this is the human common room." She says. "You can sleep anywhere where there is a free bunk and linens are at the front desk… sometimes."

"Thanks Nata." I say turning to her.

She waves me off and turns to go. "Don't mention it. I still need to get you in touch with that guy who can get you an ID and Passport."

I grab her wrist though, gently. "No seriously. Thank you. I couldn't be here without your help."

She looks at me for a moment and then nods. "Keelah se'lai."

I let her go and then find an open bunk with some difficulty. I don't bother trying to get linens, there probably aren't any available anyways. I shut my eyes and drift off to sleep.

And it's the best sleep I've ever gotten. I don't dream. And I'm not freezing cold for once. Early the next morning, I head out again, eager to explore. While I'm out, just walking around, I spot a Keeper in an alley and I recall something Nata said about them. That their blood was green and glowing. Quickly, I find a medical supply store to buy the largest syringe I can. The cashier gives me a really strange look as I just give a dejected shrug and try to look embarrassed. Better not make this a regular purchase to appear suspicious. Once I have what I need, I head back to the alleyway and find the Keeper who dutifully picks up trash and deposits it in a chute in the wall. It finishes doing this and them moves to a terminal attached to the wall and starts typing.

"Hey." I say to the Keeper, who ignores me. "Hold still."

I walk up to it and stab the syringe into the back of its neck, prepared to grapple it to hold it still as I know it'll inevitably squirm. But it doesn't. It just makes this squeak of displeasure and continues typing. I draw out the Keeper's blood slowly. As the syringe fills, I see it is green and glowing. It looks _just_ like raw ADAM. This is insane.

I fill up three syringes full and back off from the Keeper who just continues typing in the terminal, albeit swaying slightly. I stow the syringes in the hard container they came in and put that back in the shopping bag. On the way back to the shelter, a quiet, pleasant tone plays in my communicator. I yelp in surprise as the sound takes me off guard.

" _Call from… ENCRYPTED NUMBER."_ My omni-tool's pleasant artificial voice says.

Frowning, I choose to answer it on my omni-tool. "Hello?"

" _Splicer. This is Dalarian."_ I hear through my communicator. I breathe a sigh of relief. I was worried it might be C-Sec.

"Something you need?" I ask.

" _Something like that. I was calling to see if you're interested in a job."_ Dalarian replies.

I frown. "Like the one I did yesterday?"

" _Nothing of the sort."_ Dalarian says, quickly, before pausing for a moment. _"You mentioned you were in the shelter? With your friend? I… I don't feel like 2,000 credits is enough to repay what you did to help me. So… I have a new position open for a… let's call it a building security chief."_

I furrow my brows, somewhat confused. "New position?"

" _I had a vacancy open up, just yesterday in fact. The folks living in 717 just kind of disappeared on me. And considering the lack of security in this building, I figured it would be good to have someone of your… skillset on site. Now, I'm not saying you'll need to stand outside of the building 8 hours a day for shit pay. That's what the guards are for. I'd just like you on site, on-call if you're needed... I appreciate what you did for me. As way of thanks, the position is yours. And as payment for that position, the newly vacant apartment is yours as well, at a highly reduced rate of course."_

Stunned, I'm silent for a moment. "I'll take it."

" _Good."_ Dalarian replies. _"Come by later and we'll work out the details… The folks there formally didn't even pack any of their stuff up. You might need a new couch and coffee table though."_

* * *

 **Meanwhile…**

"Anything yet?" Detective Decian Chellick asks CSI and cyber analyst Alexa Silva.

She looks up at him from his computer. "Not quite. I'm still going through our database, just trying to finish organizing it."

"Looks good to me." Chellick mumbles, staring at the screen over her shoulder.

"I stayed late to get it sorted out." Alex replies absently, focused on her work.

"Get out more." Chellick says, looking at the database.

Alex stops for a moment and looks at Chellick. "I'm going to ignore that. Anyway, I wanted to say, it doesn't really feel right."

"What doesn't?" Chellick asks, focused on the photographs in the database.

"Lying to people to get information." Alex replies. "I mean you were telling these people that they aren't suspects."

"And?" Chellick asks. "They weren't. Not really. They all just matched the description we pulled from the security footage. And besides, it's not illegal to deceive people to get information regarding a case or a conviction."

"I know. It's not illegal on Earth either." Alex replies, returning to her work.

Chellick looks at her. "So? What's the problem?"

"What's _not_ illegal is not always ethical." Alex says. "Not to me at least."

Chellick points at the computer screen. "Why doesn't that one have a name?"

Alex pauses and looks at the entry Chellick points at. She opens it. "Huh, I remember him. Had a chat with him."

"So why isn't there a name?" Chellick asks a little forcefully.

Alex thinks. "Well… honestly I think I forgot to ask."

This is partly true. What actually happened was that Alex did a cursory facial recognition search of his photo in the C-Sec archive while they were talking, as she did with all the people she processed, to see if he had any criminal record. Thing is, there was no record of him at all, not even with customs enforcement. Meaning he's not here legally. And if he's not here legally, he most likely stowed away to get here. Even in Citadel Space, generally, it's legal to execute stowaways after reporting them. The reality is that the reporting step is often skipped over and the stowaways' remains are disposed of in space, never to be found again.

Alex, as a matter of fact, came to the Citadel as a stowaway initially. As a child, she was given refuge in the Citadel. Adults, aren't so lucky. She understands the risks people take to come here. They put their lives on the line often just to have a fresh start somewhere new. Alex got her fresh start, even if it wasn't necessarily her decision. Nonetheless, she's grateful for her life. Alex doesn't believe that people should be punished or killed for a second chance at life.

So Alex didn't ask his name and Alex lied to Chellick about forgetting to ask his name. Though if she were being honest to herself, she did kind of forget. She doesn't usually get carried away talking about things like she did with him. Something about him just made her feel comfortable. It was the eyes, maybe. His very tired eyes.

Alex looks up at Chellick. "Sorry."

Chellick shrugs. "One random person lost in the… woodwork…"

Alex frowns up at him as Chellick narrows his eyes at the screen. She looks back and forth between the screen and Chellick a few times. "What?"

Chellick points at the man's shoulder, near the collar of his shirt. There is a pretty significant amount of hair there, Alex notices.

"Maybe he got a haircut?" Alex muses.

"Yeah… I'm sure he did." Chellick replies, straightening. "Send me that contact number. And could you do me another big favor?"

Alex looks up at him.

"See if there are any barbers within walking distance of that shelter. And if there are, go over the security footage of those places." Chellick says, picking up his helmet and walking towards the door.

"What if there aren't any?" Alex asks, suddenly nervous and aware.

"There will be." Chellick says, leaving the room.


	4. Blood Money

**Mass Effect**

 **Massive Shock Redux**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Mass Effect or BioShock franchises or any characters or property that BioWare or 2K games has staked claim upon. Original Characters that I create may be used or distributed for use at my leisure.**

" **Nothing ventured, nothing gained."**

 **~Anonymous~**

 **Ch. 4: Blood Money**

 **11:27 AM January 2, 2182**

* * *

It's been a few days that I've been here. And so far, I am truly loving it. It's like a dream. I've been spending my time just exploring the Citadel, seeing as much as I can see. Wandering around aimlessly for hours, looking at stores, landmarks, just anything that catches my eye is really all I've been doing for days. I've been trying to get a feel for the place, see how it functions. A lot of things are unfamiliar… really _alien_ to me, like the transit system, the _extra_ net, or the food.

Asari food by the way. Not bad. Weird. But not bad.

I moved into the apartment the gang was inhabiting a few days ago. Dalarian was very generous. His discount is almost 85% off the regular rent. He's only asking I pay about 1,400 credits per month for the apartment, and he's able to write that price off as a "perk" of my new "job." It's really not a job, just a bureaucratic smokescreen to explain it if it's ever noticed by any law enforcement. Nevertheless, the cheap price is more than I can afford at the moment. I've got enough to pay one month's rent and I've been able to make a little extra money selling some of the gear I brought here with me. But I'm going to need more. Particularly if I'm going to pay this forger that Nata is going to introduce me to.

Nata tells me his work is thorough and fool-proof. He does a particularly excellent job of developing a timeline and a paper trail to match the timeline. Like if someone stows away on a ship here from Palaven, the Turian homeworld, he develops a passport, ship ticket, transaction, and on and on until it's without a doubt that they're supposed to be here. In addition, he can create visas for work and residence. That's reassuring but, sounds expensive as well.

In terms of work though, this fake job isn't giving me an income so I'm going to have to figure something out. More than that, I need a plan. The fact of the matter is that I'm here in the Mass Effect universe. When I was in Rapture, I kind of carved my own path because I was there following the events of Bioshock 1 and before and during Bioshock 2. Though during the game events themselves I tried to stay out of it as much as possible. Here?

I don't know. I feel like I'm here for a reason. I have to be here for a reason right? Those visions I had when I came here, of the thing in the darkness… When I try to think about it I can hardly remember but I know there was something in that darkness when I came here and when I came to Rapture. There's something more significant about this.

From what I can tell, I'm here before the first Mass Effect game. I don't remember what year Mass Effect took place in but I do remember that the game started with Eden Prime getting attacked and that hasn't happened yet according to my research. I want to be a part of it, that I know. Like I feel like I should be here and be a part of it. I feel like I can make a difference. And when I played the games I played the game through Shepard's eyes. Saw what they saw. So I… I don't know. Part of me wants to see all that too. It feels like what I should do.

Plus, it's always good to have goals to aim for. But the big question? How do I get in? I could join the Alliance but I doubt I'd get anywhere with that and no doubt I'd end up getting experimented on by them too. I could join Cerberus. But also fuck that.

So what I think I'm going to do is what I did in Rapture; that is, I'm going to make my own way. I'm just going to do what feels best. And thinking about what I'd be good at here? The only thing that comes to mind is being some kind of mercenary. From what I can tell, there's no shortage of work, especially here on the Citadel. Everyone has problems and if I take care of them, people would pay handsomely for that. Besides, Wrex was a merc and he got picked up for Shepard's crew, so there's a chance for me too!

As I'm mulling all these details over in my new apartment as I rearrange furniture and clean up, there's a knock on my door.

I turn and walk over and unlock it, knowing Nata was on her way over with some things we need for the place. But standing in the small antechamber is a turian. And not just any turian.

I swallow hard and my breath catches in my throat as I look up at the face of Garrus Vakarian. His face is absolutely unmistakable, particularly his indelible blue face tattoo and targeting visor. He's wearing plain clothes however, not his C-Sec armor.

"Hello sir." Garrus says doing a turian smile, that is smiling with their eyes and widening their mandibles. "I was wondering if you were able to answer a few questions."

"Um. Who are you?" I ask with a frown.

"Oh my name's Tyrus Invictan. I'm a reporter for Citadel News Now." Garrus replies.

I blink and narrow my eyes suspiciously. For a moment I'm almost convinced. Maybe I made a mistake and thought he was Garrus but I'm certain that this is Garrus. Do not drop your guard now… Just because you know him like an old friend doesn't mean you should treat him like that. "What are the… questions regarding?"

"This area sees a lot of crime, particularly gang activity. I'm doing a piece on gangs and the anti-gang enforcement team at C-Sec. I've already interviewed to a couple of your neighbors, but I heard you recently moved in. Wanted to get a fresh perspective on the area." Garrus says, with a pleasant tone. "I'd really appreciate your input. It won't take more than a few minutes."

"Uh… Sure." I say, motioning for him to come in.

"Thank you very much, sir!" He says walking in quickly.

"No problem. Feel free to sit anywhere. Want something to drink? Uh… water?" I ask with a frown, following him in and closing the door. "Do turians drink water?"

He laughs, sitting on the couch. "We do, but I'm fine thank you. Have you not had much interaction with turians?"

I shake my head sitting in a chair across from him. "No, I just came from Earth a week or so ago."

"I see." He says, opening his omni-tool and beginning to type. "I'm going to record this if that's okay. So, what do you think of the Citadel so far?"

I nod and look out the window for a moment. "It's beautiful. And so… alien compared to anything I'm used to. In a good way."

"Good to hear you're enjoying it. But I hope you are aware of the gang crime here on the Citadel. Mostly small timers, but some are large and organized. Were you aware of that before you moved here?" Garrus asks.

"I wasn't, actually." I say. "I guess my knowledge of the Citadel was mostly superficial."

"Understandable. Leaders want their capitol to appear perfect after all." Garrus says with a nod. "So, more directly, there was a gang that was known to operate this ward, the Zakera Zesters. A few of their members were killed a short ways away, next to a migrant shelter. Know anything about that?"

I'm quiet for a bit before nodding. "I heard about that, I think."

"What's strange is that their other members are disbanding, joining other gangs, and their leader hasn't been seen in a few days." Garrus says with a shrug. "Did you hear about that?"

I shake my head. "No, but the less crime, the better I suppose."

"Of course." Garrus says nodding. "Something particularly interesting though, there are rumors that the ZZ's were based out of this apartment building. And a few people on this floor said that they were in this apartment. When did you move in?"

I frown. "Only a day or two ago."

He looks around. "Came pre-furnished then? Where were you staying before? If you've been here a week already."

I clear my throat, suddenly very aware of what's going on. "A hotel, not far off. And yeah."

"What?" Garrus asks, looking me in the eye.

"Came pre-furnished." I say, looking him in the eye. "Got it for a steal."

"Hm." Garrus grunts. "Lucky you."

"I'd say so." I respond standing. "Sorry, but I have some errands to run. I'll leave you my number if you'd like. Can I show you out Mr. Vakarian?"

I see his eyes widen slightly.

"Sorry?" He asks after a moment.

I frown. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I say your name wrong? What was it again?"

I see him swallow. "Invictan. Tyrus Invictan."

"Sorry. I must have gotten your name confused with another turian I know." I say flatly.

He clears his throat and stands. "Thank you for your time sir… I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."

"Oh, don't worry about that." I say walking to the door and opening it. "Feel free to put my interview in the news. But I prefer to stay anonymous anyways."

He smiles forcefully. "Of course. Have a good day."

Garrus leaves and I close the door. I let out a long breath. Fuck. I have to get some identification or something. Something doesn't feel right.

* * *

 **A Few Moments Later…**

Garrus walks out of the apartment building and over to a car. He enters it and it takes off. He leans his head back against the head rest and sighs.

"What'd you get?" Garrus's partner, Detective Decian Chellick asks.

Garrus looks at him. "He knew my name."

Chellick looks at him for a moment in shock before turning his attention back to his driving. "He what?"

Garrus sighs and shakes his head. "Something's up Decian. He knew my name. The whole time he was being… short. Not cold. He was friendly enough but he was just being really vague. He asked my name when I came in and I gave my cover name. But at the end, he called me Mr. Vakarian. He knew who I was partner. He knew I was C-Sec from the get go, somehow. It's almost like… He knew I was coming."

"Well guilty people usually expect retribution…" Chellick mumbles.

"But how could he know my name? That wasn't random." Garrus replies.

"No it wasn't. Maybe he remembered my name and looked me up and found out we were partners… somehow." Chellick says. "He could have called the precinct? Asked to speak to me or my partner?"

Garrus grunts. "Maybe. Regardless, I didn't get much out of him. He refused when I asked his name, but this was after he said my real name, so I didn't want to pursue."

"That was good call." Chellick replies. "We don't want to scare him off. We need to keep him there until we can get some hard evidence to arrest him on."

Garrus sighs. "If we haven't found anything by now to implicate him, then chances are we won't find anything. This guy is different. He must be covering his tracks. We should just go in and arrest him on conspiracy to commit murder."

"And what? Tell the judge that I got a hunch it was him because he matches our suspect's general description and because I noticed hair trimmings on his shoulder in his processing picture?" Chellick asks incredulously.

"What about the fact that the Zakera Zesters started falling apart 3 days ago and he just happened to move into their former headquarter at the same time?" Garrus asks.

"Circumstantial." Chellick says a bit angrily. "The prosecutor would never press charges. The case is too weak. No we need evidence."

Garrus throws his hands up. "This is fucking bullshit. You and I both know he's going to get to walk away."

"Alex is working on cleaning up the still we caught from that security camera. If we can get a facial recognition match-up then that'd be a good enough reason to arrest and detain him until we can find more on him. Plus, there were those drops of blood at the scene. If we can detain him, we can get a DNA sample, and that'd be enough to charge him." Chellick replies. "I know this is difficult for you, but just have some faith in the system Garrus."

Garrus scoffs. "We'll see."

* * *

 **10:41 PM January 2, 2182**

I'm waiting in the meeting spot now, a place called Dark Star Lounge. It's a dark, moody place on the 28th level on the Zakera Ward. If I recall correctly, this is a place you can visit Mass Effect 2. Though being in here it's not familiar to me at all. It took me a while to get here, I hope I'm not late. I'm still not used to navigating the Wards or Presidium yet. There are many levels and the Citadel is incredibly vast.

Anyway, I walk over to the bar and sit down. I order an Old Fashioned, which I've never actually had before, and wait there for a moment. The turian bartender passes me the drink and begins to walk off, but I call to him before he can.

"I'm looking for someone. Supposed to be a regular here." I say. "A Vaga Kotka?"

The bartender scoffs and jabs a thumb over his shoulder toward a large archway with an elcor guard in front of it. "Another one of Vaga's acquisitions then? He's got a booth in the back."

Confused, I thank and tip the bartender before heading towards the archway to the back room with my drink in hand. I sip it. Okay. Strong but not bad. Better tasting and more complex than anything I could have in Rapture. That is, it's better than plain room temperature liquor.

Approaching the elcor, he holds up a huge hand to stop me before dropping it back to the ground with a loud thump.

"Firmly: You on the list?" The elcor says with an extremely monotone flat-affect.

"I don't know. I don't think so." I respond. "I'm here to see Vaga Kotka."

"Impatiently: If you're not on the list, you're not getting in. Mr. Kotka puts all his guests on the list." The elcor responds.

I sigh. "Look, if I give you 40 credits will you just stare at your feet for 10 seconds?"

"Unabashedly: Fuck yes." The elcor holds out his massive hand.

I open my omni-tool and put 40 credits onto a credit chit which I pass to him. The elcor immediately pockets it and looks at the floor. I walk past him through the archway into the back room; it's not really a room at all, more like an extension of the club.

I'm in a long hallway, on my left the wall is cut away into a huge open dancefloor with balconies with poles and a DJ up on a platform playing what Bioware must have assumed would be the music of the future: bad techno mixes that sound like they came from a random 14 year old soundclouder who specializes in mashups of remixed Windows XP noises.

That was very specific, I apologize. On the right side of the hall are a bunch of booths and at the end of the hall, is a set of doors into the VIP area. I walk down the hall, looking into the booths. They're all occupied by large groups of people receiving bottle service, none of them look like the person I'm looking for.

I walk into the VIP area, which is much quieter. It's a large circular room with a bar in the center and booths lining the walls. I walk slowly through the room, looking into the booths and through the groups of people gathered on the floor around the bar. I have absolutely no idea which one of these people is Vaga. Nata told me he's a turian but couldn't tell me much else about him, only that he's got a flair for the finer things.

"Hey! You, come here!" I hear a sharp flanged voice say nearby. I turn towards the voice and see a tall turian with semi-shiny silver skin and black face tattoos in the shape of small downward pointing triangles beneath his eyes sitting in a booth by himself. He's got a black suit on and he also has those Saren Arterius side fringe things that shoot back from his cheekbones giving him a unique appearance compared to other turians. I lock eyes with him and he waves me over. I walk over and he gestures for me to sit.

"Usually, I start by offering to buy my clients a drink but I see you already have one." The turian says, crossing his legs and leaning back in his seat. "Though if you got that out front I'd just throw it out. The bartender back here is 10 times better."

"Doesn't bother me." I say. "Are you Vaga Kotka?"

"Guilty as charged." He replies, with a small chuckle. He has a deep voice, and speaks slowly like he's measuring his every word to lay with more weight. Almost in a sultry way.

Frowning I adjust myself in my seat. "Then you know why I'm here?"

"I do indeed." He replies, sitting up as well. "You need my… expertise."

I glance off sideways with a frown. "Are you… hitting on me?"

He laughs like I said something ridiculous and I'm embarrassed initially. That is until he touches my arm.

"I might be." He says, withdrawing his hand from my forearm after a moment. "I'm kidding. More like I'm trying to get a feel for you."

"What do you mean?" I ask, suspicious and uncomfortable.

"I wear a lot of hats." He says, taking a drink from his cocktail. "I do a good job and make very good money getting identification for people but I also have other… skills."

"Get to the point." I say, furrowing my brows.

"Very well. Point is, I'm good at getting documentation for people for one reason in particular: I have good connections. And I have good connections for one reason in particular: I sell the information on those people to those who'd buy it for the right price. I don't just deal in IDs I deal in information." Vaga says, leaning back again.

I'm quiet for a bit, piecing it together. "You work for the Shadow Broker?"

"Bingo." Vaga says with a laugh. "And I am very good at my job. I make the Shadow Broker and myself a lot of money, doing what I do. I take pride in being thorough. Whenever I get a new client, I find out everything I can about them. And I then sell what I learn. Not only do I get paid by the client for getting them identification, but I also get paid for their information. And I have security as well. Because if they ever try to come back at me for any reason, I have leverage against them."

"Makes sense." I mumble, seeing where he's going.

He leans forward. "I am good at my job. I can find out everything about anyone with just a picture of their face. But not your face. The picture you sent me? Ran it in every database there is. Nothing. No record of any kind. No past, no present. Almost nothing."

"Almost?" I frown.

He grins. He opens his omni-tool and shows me a picture of myself, not one I took. It looks like there's some kind of screen behind me… Oh. The C-Sec processing thing the other day.

"So?" I ask, shrugging. He's trying to leverage something against me. I'm going to give away as little as possible.

"So…" He opens up another picture, this one of an alleyway with me leaving it, but in this picture I still have long hair. "C-Sec is connecting the dots. If I did, then so can they. They'll be looking for you soon, regarding those two dead folks in the alleyway. I can make that go away. And I can make this all disappear, on top of getting you your identity."

"They already have figured it out." I mumble, thinking back to Garrus visiting my apartment.

Vaga grins. "Then? Even better! Now you have to accept."

"What's the price?" I ask frowning. Here we fucking go. What have you gone and gotten yourself into?

"Hmph. Nothing… monetary." He says, leaning back with a grin.

"Oh God…" I say leaning back with a grimace.

Vaga laughs. "You're funny! Nothing of the sort. I need someone to disappear."

"Who?" I ask.

"An asari. Ricca Ladra." Vaga says. "She stays in a really upscale hotel on the Presidium. Her and I have beef, so I want her gone. Need it to look like an accident or a suicide though so people don't come looking at me."

"On the Citadel for less than a week and I'm already a fucking hitman." I mumble to myself before looking at Vaga. "What's your beef with her?"

"On top of everything else I do, I model." Vaga says, tossing a magazine onto the table. "Her and I are always contending for a two-page or centerfold. I don't like the competition."

I look at the magazine he tossed onto the table. Fornax. I grimace at him. "Can't you fucking pick a career path? Like stay in one lane? Or did you ever, at some point, maybe in high school or something, think 'maybe I should be an accountant or something' before you delved into selling secrets, forging IDs, hiring hitmen to commit murder, and modeling for porn?"

Vaga laughs. "No, I never pegged myself for conventional occupation. Anyway, that's the job. You're in."

"I don't really have a choice." I mumble.

"I wasn't asking." Vaga says with a shrug and a grin.

* * *

 **1:12 AM January 3, 2182**

Of all the things Vaga is, he's not a tactical expert. I asked him how he planned on me getting into the hotel and he provides me a busboy's uniform, a keycard, and a piece of advice: seduce her. So I'm supposed to just walk up there and 'seduce her?' This is absolutely silly.

I shift uncomfortably in the uniform Vaga provided me. It's much too tight and the sleeves are too short. I don't know who he got this from but they must have been a small person. I sigh loudly before I key open the hotel room door.

I walk in and shut the door behind me. Goddamn this room is nice. The room is a mutli-room suite, with a large living room area, a small kitchenette and a sliding door on my left that's currently shut. The room is dark right now, but the light coming in through the window illuminates the cream colored furniture and red carpet. I walk over and turn on a light and put some suitcases I was holding on the ground.

"Excuse me?" I hear a woman's voice say. "What are you doing in here?"

I turn around to face the sliding door which is now open. My breath catches and I swallow. Standing in between the doors is an asari, but definitely the most attractive one I've seen yet. She's has beautiful azure skin with unique black markings that cover her head tentacle things and gradient onto her forehead, framing her face nicely. Her fingertips and feet are also similarly gradient from black to azure. She has a gorgeous face with dark grey eyes and black lips. And her body is just ridiculous. At present, she's wearing a small grey silk bathrobe.

I swallow again. "I'm… Uh. Sorry. I'm sorry, I must be in the wrong room. I was bringing up the bags of some guests downstairs."

"I hope there's no mix-up downstairs." Ricca Ladra says, crossing her arms in such a way as to amplify her breasts. "I pay quite handsomely for this room and I've been here for some time now."

"I'm sorry ma'am." I say legitimately nervously, picking the bags back up. "I was told this is the room to bring the bags too. I'm sure it's a simple mix-up. I'll leave immediately."

"Oh no." She says, walking forwards. "You're not off the hook yet. Put the bags down."

I drop the bag and don't move.

She approaches slowly, looking me up and down. Once she's within inches of me she squats and picks the bags up and brings them to the door. She opens the door and places the bags outside and turns back around to face me. She walks back towards me, waving a hand over her shoulder.

The hand seems to glow with black and blue energy for a second and I hear the deadbolt on the door snap into place. Oh wow. Biotics. I've never seen them in person before. This… might be problematic if I don't do this right.

"I've not seen you here before." Ricca says stepping up very close to me again. "You're new?"

"Yes ma'am. My first day." I respond.

She chuckles. "Well… so fresh. I want to make something clear. I'm not to be bothered. Ever. If I need something, it'll be left outside. I live here because this is a nice hotel. But it's only as nice as the people who work here. You don't want to be the one who causes me to leave."

I nod. "Yes ma'am."

"Now go." She says, turning around to walk back to her bedroom. Shit. I'm going to blow this.

"Wait!" I say. "Isn't there something I can do to make it up to you? I don't want to screw this job up."

She turns back to me and smiles. "You're forward."

I shrug and give her my best coy look. "Just trying to please my guests ma'am."

"I see why they hired you." Ricca says, walking back up to me and placing a hand on my chest. "You're not bad."

I put my hands on her waist and turn her around, pressing myself against her as my hands touch her. Honestly, I'm just winging this until I have my chance. "Is that all that I am?"

I hear her laugh and she reaches behind herself to touch me. "That is all."

"Hm." I mumble kissing her neck while my other hand reaches behind my back to retrieve a rope that I hid underneath the jacket of my uniform. I can't struggle too much with her. Bruising would indicate a struggle which is indicative of murder, not suicide. Plus trashing the place in a fight would be bad as well.

I quickly, in one motion, slip the pre-tied noose over her neck and tighten it but spinning around and pulling on the rope hard as it passes over my shoulder. I feel her feet lift up off the ground as I pull her onto my back with the rope.

I hear her gasp and choke and feel her struggling. Then, something hard hits me in the side of the head hard enough to make my vision go spotty and dark for a second. I stumble to my feet and spin around as the rope gets yanked out of my hand.

Ricca yanks the rope off her neck and looks at me, fury in her eyes. "You fucking psycho!"

Ricca's arms glow with dark energy and a metal end table flies at me, as if it was launched from a catapult. I barely duck out of the way in time as it flies over my head and crashes through the window behind me. She uses her biotics to yank an ottoman, which is just immediately behind me, towards her. The ottoman knocks both of my legs out from under me and I land on my back hard.

I sit up just in time to see another object flying at my head. This time it's a large marble sphere used for decoration somewhere in the room no doubt. I throw my hand up and catch it with Telekinesis. I see Ricca look shocked for a second before I send the sphere flying at her head. It bounces off her forehead with a loud thump and she stumbles back, collapsing onto the ground.

I get up and feel some blood trickle from my temple where I got hit the first time. My head starts to swim from that initial blow and I feel a bad headache coming on. I scowl and walk over to Ricca, who moans on the ground. I pick her up and walk over to the shattered window. Wind whips into the room making the heavy curtains snap loudly. I grab Ricca's wrist and lower her so her feet are on the ground.

"What are you…" Ricca mumbles, concussed and incoherent.

I don't respond, I just push her out of the window and let go of her wrist. I watch her fall. She doesn't scream. After I see her hit the ground, I turn and clean up anything that might be implicative quickly like the stone orb and I check for any blood droplets. I leave shortly afterwards, taking the suitcases and anything else I brought with me, a sick taste in my mouth.

I walk out of the hotel about 20 minutes later. I'm wearing dark, discrete clothing that hides my face decently. The busboy uniform I left in the hotel laundry to rid it of any evidence that might have been left. I look over at the crowd of C-Sec vehicles gathered around where Ricca's body is. There aren't many people out on the streets right now but a small crowd is gathered about as well, trying to peek into the crime scene.

I walk quickly to a cab and pay for a ride to the place where Vaga told me to meet him. I get in the cab and it takes off automatically, its destination a spot on the Presidium. My omni-tool suddenly lights up and a VI's voice in my ear indicates to me that I have a call incoming.

I answer. "Hello?"

" _Good job buddy."_ I hear Vaga say. _"Very innovative. Adaptive! You think on your feet, I like that!"_

"What?" I ask with a frown.

" _Oh I was watching the whole time."_ Vaga says. _"I put a tiny little camera on that uniform I gave to you. Saw the whole thing. Shame Ricca's gone in a way. She was gorgeous. But now that she's gone, I won't have to worry about the competition. Good work!"_

"Mm. So we're done?" I ask.

" _Mostly. Just come by for what I owe you."_ Vaga responds before ending the call.

I frown and let the cab continue its course. After a few more minutes, the cab touches down on a landing platform attached to the top floor of a tall building that curves against the wall of the Presidium.

I step out of the cab and walk towards a large glass wall. Within I can see a large atrium with many live plants inside. I enter the atrium and Vaga walks over to me from a full bar inside the atrium.

"This a bar you own or something?" I ask as he hands me a drink. "It's nice."

"No this is my apartment." Vaga replies sipping a drink in his hand.

I sputter on my drink and look around the space. "This can hardly be called an apartment. It's huge. How many rooms is it?"

"Takes up the whole top three floors of this building." Vaga says, thinking. "Mm. There are 8 bedrooms I think…"

"You can stop there." I say with a sigh, putting the drink down. "I'll just get what I came for and go."

He laughs. "Sure. Here. I'm uploading it all to your omni-tool."

I look down at my omni-tool, which lights up on its own from the incoming data. A picture of me appears along with a series of notes on my weight, height, etc. Additionally, a few other files upload as well. I open them up and see a few notes on my "background." As well as a passport, work and residential visa, and a background check confirmation.

"Is this everything I need?" I ask looking everything over.

He nods. "Yup! If you ever get pulled over or anything, that'll suffice for identification. Though delete that log of your background once you've memorized it."

"Robert Jackson?" I ask, indicating the name listed on my IDs.

"There are hundreds of 'Robert Jacksons' on Earth, but not so many as to be suspicious." Vaga explains. "A random name choice really. Of no consequence."

"Could you have picked a more white bread name?" I ask sarcastically.

"Sorry?" He asks, oblivious. "What's white bread?"

"I mean it's good that you gave me the most boring name in the universe I'll definitely be harder to notice that way." I say. "But seriously, thank you."

"No!" Vaga says with a grin, placing a hand on my arm. "Thank you! Listen, I like you man. You're different. I'm worried you don't think the same of me. So as a show of good faith towards a future friendship I've got not one, not two, but three things for you!"

He opens his omni-tool and my own lights up as well. My bank account balance appears and then fattens by 10,000 credits.

"That's one!" Vaga announces before pointing up at the glass atrium wall which begins to darken. "There's two!"

The darkening glass appears to double as a television screen as it lights up with images. They're various pictures of me since I came here. I see the one the CSI took of me outside the migrant shelter and a kind of blurry still of me leaving the alleyway outside the shelter. And another one, curiously, showing me at the barber shop I visited, both before I went in and after I left.

"What is all that?" I ask with a frown.

Not responding to me, Vaga holds his omni-tool up to his face. "Okay, go ahead."

Suddenly the images change. The clear image of my face from the CSI processing changes into a face of a different person. Similar in appearance but definitely not me. The images outside the barber shop and the alleyway also change to emulate the appearance of the person in the CSI image.

"And finally." Vaga says with a nod. "Some encouragement and some words of advice! So it's a two-parter! I like your style. And you're astonishingly good at what you do! I am going to put the word out among other Shadow Broker agents here on the Citadel that you're a guy they can count on! And that'll definitely get you a good in with the Shadow Broker themself as well! Now for that advice: That little trick I just pulled was thanks to some friends I have in C-Sec. Looks like they've _already_ got you in their radar. That'll keep them off of you for sometime but if I were you, I'd be more careful about showing my face around places I just killed people. We were able to alter the pictures of you in the evidence databases but physical evidence like your blood or hair is there if there is any, no way of getting rid of it. So again, _if I were you_ I would definitely try to avoid leaving physical evidence as well."

"How, exactly, do you suggest I do that?" I ask with a frown.

Vaga types into his omni-tool again and an address is uploaded to my own omni-tool. "Go there and you'll find the, quote, 'best armor and weapon designer in the whole fucking galaxy.' His methods are unorthodox to be sure and the legality of the gear he makes is… questionable. But he's an unknown still. I heard from good sources though that this guy is legitimately the best around. And best of all: he's affordable and discreet."

I lower my omni-tool frowning at him. "Why are you doing all of this?"

Vaga looks taken aback. "What do you mean pal?"

"I'm not your pal." I respond shaking my head. "Which is why I'm curious why you're doing all this. What do you get out of doing all these things for me? Why do it at all?"

"Why, I get your trust!" Vaga responds with an innocent shrug. "What better gift is there?"

I shake my head and start to leave. "Keep trying."

"Wait!" Vaga says running into my path. "I get it. You're not just going to blindly trust some random turian you just met who paid you to kill someone. Totally understandable! But listen, I'll be honest with you. You're interesting! Fascinating to me! And I want to get to know you better."

I look at him incredulous. "Are you hitting on me again?"

He laughs. "No, no, no! I just… Okay, I'll be honest because I want to show you I mean well. When I said I saw the _whole thing_ earlier, I meant all of it. I saw what you can do… that you're different. I want to know more about that, more about you. Like… legitimately, I just find you fascinating. I can tell you're one of those people who're just going to be important someday in the future or even soon. I feel like I should be on your side. I want to be your friend."

"Forward." I mumble, with a dubious shake of my head. I sigh heavily. "Look, I appreciate what you've done for me and the charity and the work. But I'm reluctant to dive into a friendship with someone I just met."

"Understandable." Vaga says with a shrug. "Regardless, your secrets are safe with me."

"Mm." I pause thinking for a moment. He does know a lot about me doesn't he. I sigh again. "Okay."

"Okay?" He looks hopeful.

"Yeah, we're friends." I say with a tired shake of my head.

"Great!" He exclaims. "Man I'm glad to hear that! Well, listen, I'm primarily curious about the super powers!"

"Fuck you're right to the point aren't you?" I ask with exasperation. "Buy me a drink first man."

He laughs and nods.

* * *

 **Later that evening…**

I sit in the booth of the nightclub Vaga brought me to, uncomfortable for the most part. These kinds of places, I'm deciding, aren't my scene. I don't like dancing, I don't like crowds, I don't like the noise, and I don't think I like being drunk. I've been drunk before. I took up daily drinking in Rapture but I'd rarely drink enough to get hammered. That was just a safety issue. Regardless, whenever I was hammered, I did not enjoy the feeling so much. Nevertheless, I've now developed an appreciation for drinking, particularly craft. I'm enjoying trying different drinks. Today I'm drinking a Brooklyn over. It's good, but a bit strong for me.

I sigh and look around the space. At least we're in the VIP area. I don't think I could even hear myself think in the public area. Vaga sips some sort of turian cocktail out of a tall Collins-like glass and smiles and waves off some adoring fans of his.

He laughs and shrugs when he sees me looking at him. "People come up to me all the time."

"You'd think they'd be more subtle about their fetishes." I respond sarcastically.

He laughs, seemingly immune to being offended or to jabs at his character. "You'd think but then again, I'm not a household face either so maybe they're not so embarrassed to approach. Anyway, about you."

"My fetishes?" I ask, sarcastically dodging the question.

He chuckles. "That perhaps later. For now, powers."

I sigh. "This again?"

"I bought you the drink didn't I?" Vaga says with a turian smile.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah… listen, I'm just reluctant to share personal secrets with a shadow broker agent."

"Fair enough." Vaga says with a shrug. "What can I do to ease your worry?"

I frown. "Take off you omni-tool so I know for sure you're not recording me."

He nods and does so, leaving the arm rings, belt-mounted CPU and hyper printer, and his earpiece on the table. "Done. Anything else?"

I shrug. "Can't think of anything… what do you want to know?"

"I want to know how, what, and why most of all." Vaga says. "I don't want to insult you and make you think that my only interest in your character is because your 'special abilities' make you unique. I find _you_ fascinating overall. But indulge me. I'm curious."

I frown. Well… that's flattering. I'm more than my powers. That's a nice sentiment. "Well, I guess it's easiest to start with the how. When I was 17 I was taken against my will to a city called Rapture. Rapture is… under the ocean. It was built as a sort of libertarian/socialist/communist populism where people could be 100% free, with no government influence on their activity or lifestyle. It was a place rooted in capitalism and consumerism though, and as a result the focal point of everyone's lifestyle was to be as hedonistic as possible. Just flaunt your wealth, you know? Anyway, because of the hands-off nature of the city's leadership, technological advancement was radical and rapid. Namely, genetic editing. I don't think I need to go into more detail than that over how exactly I got my powers."

"Genetic editing eh?" Vaga says, stroking his chin and mandibles. "But you said you went there at 17 years old? Doesn't genetic editing need to occur invitro?"

I shake my head. "No, not in Rapture at least. I don't know how 'normal' genetic editing works, but in Rapture they had a substance… or more like a drug that they called ADAM. ADAM was like white-out for your DNA. In its raw form it could completely wipe out whole parts of your genetic code. The result of raw ADAM on your system is… very ugly to say the least. But over the course of several decades, ADAM was able to be inputted with codes. In other words, instead of white-out it was more like cut-copy-paste. This allowed ADAM to, yes, wipe parts of your genes; but in a directed or targeted way. It cleaned out undesirable genes and inputted new designed codes. Want a different eye color? To be taller, stronger, smarter? Skin as dense as steel but still soft to the touch? See in the dark, smell something a kilometer away? It could do all that and more. On top of that, it could add features that no creature has. Telekinesis, electricity power, fire and combustion power… the list goes on."

"That's incredible." Vaga says. "So you used ADAM?"

"Not really by choice." I say. "ADAM wasn't a good thing. Yes, it could cure genetic disease and make everyone beautiful, but everything good has a price. ADAM was horribly addictive. Not just for its effects but also in its nature. People craved it. And the lasting effects weren't noticed until too late. Changing your genes has drawbacks. People started mutating and became literal monsters. And before long it tore the city apart. When I got there, it was a hell hole filled with insane super-powered abominations suffering ADAM withdrawl. Every day there was a struggle to survive. I used ADAM knowing the long-term consequences and out of necessity to survive. It wasn't a choice I made lightly. But i found out that it doesn't affect me the same way it does other people. I discovered that instead of wiping my genes, ADAM just like, incorporates itself into my DNA seamlessly. So yeah, it changed me, but I also stayed the same in a way. It's hard to explain, but in short, my cells bring ADAM into their nuclei and allow ADAM to produce changes overtime. It changes my DNA without the drawbacks of addiction or deformities and without changing who I am in essence. I evolve instead of mutate, I guess is the best way of putting that. Why? I don't know. A semi-sane geneticist there told me that it must be genetic but couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was in my genes that allowed ADAM to do that. She said, perhaps, ADAM was always a part of my body and that's why my body accepts it. Regardless, it allowed me to use as much as I wanted without any side effects."

Vaga is just smiling at me, quiet for a moment. "I told you that you were special."

I roll my eyes. "Mm-hm."

"So what can you do?" Vaga asks, leaning forward.

"Well, I have passive abilities and impassive abilities." I explain. "Tonics, and plasmids they're called respectively. The plasmids are powers that I can activate and deactivate like light-switches. When it came to choosing my powers, I opted to versatility. See, most splicers can choose powers, and then upgrade those powers with more ADAM…"

"Splicers?" Vaga asks, interrupting.

I nod. "Yeah, that's what they're called. People who use ADAM. Because they're splicing genes."

"You're name is Splicer, no?" Vaga asks.

I roll my eyes. "Well, no. That's not my name-name. It's just… what I am."

He nods. "Okay, sorry. Go on."

"Anyway, I can't just upgrade my powers with more ADAM. I need to allow my powers to naturally evolve. So in other words, for me it became important to load up with as many powers as I could. So for my plasmids, I have fire, ice, electricity, telekinesis and a few others that I don't use too often because they're… unpleasant to say the least."

"Hm." Vaga says with a nod. "What about the passive ones? The tonics?"

I nod. "Those are more functional and suited to survival. My skin is denser than normal human skin and can resist blades and some bullets. My bones are also hyperdense as well and are difficult but not impossible to break. I don't need to eat quite as much as a normal person but to maintain good health I do need to eat regularly. I can also hydrate through my skin, in other words I don't need to directly ingest water. I can absorb it from the air or from bathing. This also protects me from viruses or sickness from drinking dirty water because my skin only absorbs the water molecules and not the other stuff. My senses are all superior to a human's as well and my reaction speed is highly improved. My strength, endurance and speed are all superior to most humans as well, probably on par with top athletes but a normal person could still surpass me if they trained hard enough. There are a few others but yeah those are the main ones."

"Damn." Vaga says thinking. "You might want to be careful."

I frown. "Why?"

"I'm just thinking that if any of this got out, about who you are and what you can do, there are all kinds of people who'd want to get their hands on you man." Vaga says looking at me intensely. "If I were you, I'd make sure not to use your powers out in the open or without some kind of disguise."

"You're saying I need to become a super hero?" I say with a sarcastic laugh.

He smirks. "Not to that extent, just be cautious."

I nod. "Noted."

* * *

 **Earlier that Day…**

Garrus stands over the dead asari, tiny fragments of glass crunching under his boots almost like fresh fallen snow. She's beautiful, in a macabre sort of way. Her body is totally intact, no ruptures, just bruising on the underside of her. A little blood leaking from the corner of her mouth, her eyes open slightly, peaceful looking, almost. He knows that once she's picked up it'll be like lifting a bag full of melted gelatin, chunks of shattered bone and ground meat but at present she looks as she did living.

"What was the TOD?" Garrus asks a CSI who is kneeling near the body, taking photographs.

"Preliminary estimate is about 2 hours ago, but after 0100 detective." The CSI responds absently.

"We have a problem." Chellick says walking up to Garrus from behind.

Garrus looks at him with a confused glance. "Other than the dead body we need to clean up before people start walking around?"

"Yes." Chellick says, ignoring the sarcasm. "Look."

Chellick opens his omni-tool ad shows Garrus the image of their suspect… or rather someone who looks similar to their suspect.

"What's this?" Garrus asks.

Chellick shakes his head. "Alex sent this to me. She was compiling evidence and reviewing the video feed, scrubbing it you know and she said out of nowhere the images closed themselves. When she opened it all again, they were different. And not just on her computer, or ours, but across the whole C-Sec network. She said she looked everywhere she could think of, which is absolutely everywhere, and the original images were nowhere to be found."

Garrus stares dumbfounded at Chellick for a moment. "You're fucking joking."

Chellick shakes his head. "We got hacked... This guy? He's something else Garrus."

"Then let's go fucking bag him before he can get away with anything else!" Garrus exclaims, getting a few sideways looks from the other officers on the scene. "Decian, right now, this guy is fucking running us and the whole system like it's his playground. We need to go to him and put him away for good. And I _know_ that he killed her too! I have a feeling, in my gut, that he did it!"

"Then prove it Garrus." Chellick says with a shake of his head. "Prove he killed her, prove he killed those two gangsters near the migrant shelter too, and the gang leader. Prove he did all that stuff if you want him put away. Cause that's the only way he is going to get put away. So prove he did it even though he's already shown us that even if we get proof, he can make it disappear. Garrus, our system of laws exists and works for a reason. It only works if it is followed to the letter, every inch of it from end to end, all together. You can't just… take parts of it you like and throw the rest out. It sucks, I know, but not everything that is legal is moral. If we expect everyone to follow the law, then as enforcers of that law, we need to uphold it at a higher standard than the average person. What you're suggesting, whatever it is you're suggesting, it's not legal. It might be well-intentioned, but we can't arrest him or do anything to him without evidence and right now we don't have any…You and I both know that the captain will have a hard time agreeing that we should keep pursuing this without evidence."

Garrus just nods, angry.

After a moment, Chellick puts his hand on Garrus' shoulder and gets closer so nobody else can hear. "But… We can't quit this. I'm with you I think this guy is involved, at least, with everything we've been running into. A trail of bodies, that doesn't just come up out of nowhere and lead nowhere. So listen, I'll run interference for a while, try to keep a hold on our other cases. Take three days and get whatever you can on him, just enough for the captain to let us keep investigating this."

Garrus looks at Chellick and nods. "I'm on it Decian."

Chellick types some stuff onto his omni-tool and then nods at Garrus. "Alright then. I'll worry about cleaning up this mess. Go on."

Garrus nods and walks off, towards the hotel. Garrus walks up to the front desk where the desk clerk is trying to work despite the corpse outside. C-Sec officers are standing near the door to keep people inside until the techs outside clean up the body and the crime scene.

The clerk sighs as Garrus approaches her. "Look, I already told the other detectives, I didn't see anything."

"I'm aware." Garrus replies, unscathed by her coldness. "I wanted to see the security footage."

"Like I told the other detectives, the footage from the hall is corrupted." The clerk responds with a frown.

"I'm aware." Garrus says again, much more coldly. More hacking from the suspect it seems or from someone helping him. "I want to see other parts of the building."

The clerk blinks. "Okay fine. Just go ahead into the office."

Garrus walks behind the counter and into the security office behind the front desk. He spends about the next hour scouring security footage of the building. Chellick is way better at this than he is, at really narrowing down what he's looking for, seeing exactly what he needs to see from those small snippets. Garrus needs to see everything. Regardless, he sends copies to Chellick and Alex to see if they can see anything he can't. After about an hour, Garrus checks maintenance access into the lobby, which only has a one way view facing from the access hall toward the lobby door. A busboy enters the lobby around 3 hours ago, about the TOD of the victim. He's wearing the hotel uniform which is a jacket, hat and slacks. He wears the hat low and… why does he have suitcases with him? Where was he bringing those from? Was he bringing them for a guest?

Garrus scrolls back and checks footage from the lobby. The last guest to check in was 5 hours ago, only one suitcase that they took upstairs themselves. That busboy isn't seen at all until he comes in 3 hours ago with those suitcases… he goes upstairs and gets off… on the same floor as the one the victim was staying on. The whole hallway's cameras were offline all night so after that, Garrus can't see. But Garrus fast forwards the elevator's security cam until the busboy comes back into the elevator about 8 minutes later still with the suitcase.

The busboy goes straight downstairs and back into the maintenance hall, from this angle, Garrus gets a semi-decent look at his face. Looks like his suspect. His feeling was right.

Garrus sends his findings to Chellick and Alex and then heads out of the hotel. In his car, Garrus gets a message from Alex.

 _"Found this randomly a few minutes ago. It's trending online: Presidium Lake Guy."_

The message includes a brief article from a pop culture news outlet:

 _"Another newbie to the Citadel thought it'd be fun to take a swim in the lake again! It's been a while since this has happened since the Council increased the fine for swimming in the lake. Late in the evening on December 29_ _th_ _, 2181, a man was pulled from the Presidium Lake on the verge of drowning by a passing C-Sec officer. The unnamed individual was given artificial resuscitation and survived the incident. From images taken by passersby, the individual also appeared to be hurt as well with a knife in his chest. The individual was taken to a nearby hospital by the officer, and though this reporter was unable to identify the individual, we can conclude that he probably won't want to be identified based on the pictures!"_

Garrus frowns at a series of pictures on his omni-tool. They're all really clear and the first picture shows a man in shabby old clothes with a mess of hair and facial hair laying soaking wet on the ground with an asari giving him CPR. A C-Sec officer with his back to the camera is leaning over the man looking at him as well and a female quarian is also nearby. The next picture shows the man sitting up, and the next him getting hoisted to his feet by the quarian and C-Sec officer. In the third picture, Garrus gets a good look at his face and knows without a doubt that this is his suspect. His heart races.

The last picture shows the group walking off towards the Consort's Chambers and Embassies carrying the suspect with them.

Garrus leans back in his seat, dumbfounded. He messages Alex back.

 _"That's insane. We have to find that officer, the asari and the quarian. They might know more about them."_ Garrus sends the message and before long, Alex replies.

 _"Way ahead of you. Already found the asari. Wasn't hard because her face is pretty clearly visible in the pictures. The quarian is going to be next to impossible to find. As for the officer, his back is to the camera, making it tough, but not a lot of turians have that skin tone. Shouldn't be too hard."_

Garrus grins with pride. She's damn good at her job. Alex follows her message, oddly, with an online work profile. It's the asari. Nelyna, works as an acolyte of the Consort. Hm, might be tough to charge her with anything particularly given the Consort's influence on the Citadel but Garrus can definitely justify interviewing her. Garrus looks more closely at the image, zooming on the C-Sec officer. Alex is right, hard to tell who that is, but not too many turians have that skin tone or that rank. In a slight profile, Garrus can make out his rank as well as…

Garrus grins and messages Alex.

 _"Even fewer turians on the force have one mandible. Get Zero to my office when you get the chance. I want a word with him."_ Garrus sends the message, pauses and then sends another. _"You're doing damn great work."_

Garrus sighs, putting his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. He might not even need the three days. Hell, at this rate, he might even be able to arrest the bastard before the three days are up. His omni-tool beeps with a new message. Alex responded.

 _" :) damn right."_


	5. Splicer

**Mass Effect**

 **Massive Shock Redux**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Mass Effect or BioShock franchises or any characters or property that BioWare or 2K games has staked claim upon. Original Characters that I create may be used or distributed for use at my leisure.**

" **What's done is done."**

 **~William Shakespeare~**

 **Ch.5: Splicer**

 **10:23 AM January 3, 2182**

* * *

I pick up the large hypo-dermic needle. The fluid inside glows a bright neon green. I sigh and press the needle into a vein on the inside of my elbow. The needle needs to be large and dense in order to pierce my skin because of several tonics that have made my skin more dense and resliliant. Regardless of this, I hardly feel it. I'm too used to feeling this. I depress the plunger of the needle and watch the tonic encoded ADAM disappear into my veins. I squeeze my hand into a fist as I pull the needle out and sigh again. Plasmids are notoriously difficult to design and get right but Tenenbaum taught me a thing or two.

It'll take a while to manifest but this one should be useful. I'm not sure what to call it yet. Maybe Afterburn or Hyper Boost or something. Wait, why do I need to call it anything? I'm not selling it or anything… whatever.

Anyway, what I designed it to do is essentially use EVE to boost my energy levels. So if I'm tired or need to put more effort into something I can essentially "burn" EVE to put my body into overdrive. My cells will accelerate, which should speed up healing. It'll be like nitrous oxide for my body. It'll let me run way faster for short bursts or jump higher, be substantially stronger for a moment, give me a burst of adrenaline to slow things down and increase my reaction speed, or speed up healing exponentially. All at the cost of EVE of course. That's the hope at least.

I get to my feet and walk out of my bedroom, down the short hall and into the main living room of the apartment. Nata is sitting on the couch, watching something on TV.

"How's the room coming along?" I ask Nata, standing in the doorway of the hall, glancing back at the other bedroom that I'm letting her use.

"Fine." She replies. "Just taking a break… thank you by the way."

"You've already thanked me plenty." I say with a dismissive shrug. "Besides you helped me out a lot too. Least I could do is let you stay here."

"I'd bring the others here too if I could." Nata says shaking her head. "Quarians in that place don't last long. They're either kicked off the Citadel or they never get out of there… either way they end up dead somewhere, or dragging scrap back to the Migrant Fleet if they're lucky. But I get the feeling your landlord wouldn't be too eager to have a bunch of Quarians in here."

"He had a bunch of gangsters in here until recently." I say with a shrug, "Anybody is probably an improvement off that."

She laughs and then quiets for a moment. "Yeah… Still. They're not all charity cases. I just wish I could help more, you know?"

"I know." I say with a slow nod. "Speaking of, you're on Pilgrimage, right?"

She nods. "Been on Pilgrimage for a while."

"How long exactly?" I ask, curious. I haven't had the opportunity to get to know her much, though at this point it seems like her and I are going to be stuck together for a while. Not that that is a bad thing in the slightest. In the time I've known her, which isn't long at all to be sure, I've really come to appreciate her sharp wit and matter-of-factness. She's always got something to say back to you, which some people might get annoyed by but I think it's rather endearing.

"Almost a year. Which is much longer than most…" Nata replies with a wistful sigh. "Can I ask you something?"

I nod.

"Let's say, you were living in a cave your whole life. You saw the same walls, same people everyday. And then you need to leave the cave to go bring food back for your family and friends. And when you leave, the whole world outside is just so huge, dangerous, and strange. It's just terrifying. And things were bad back in the cave but at least you could sleep safely you know? But you start realizing, outside the cave, that things are _just_ as bad out here. Maybe not in the same way, but things are bad nonetheless. People need as much help out in the huge world as your community did in the cave. You want to help everyone, and you feel like you owe the people in the cave. What would you do?"

"I don't know." I say, after thinking for a moment. "I guess I'd take the opportunity while I'm out of the cave to experience more of the world outside the cave. And I'd try to learn more about myself too."

"That seems selfish though, don't you think?" Nata asks.

"Maybe." I say with a shrug. "But when have you ever had the chance to be selfish? When have you had the freedom to choose yourself over your community?"

She shrugs. "It's not like I didn't have freedoms on the Flotilla."

I sit down on a stool at the island in the kitchen. "I know. I just don't think it's selfish to want to discover what the world has to offer you. And I don't think it's selfish to want to help people outside the Flotilla either. I want to say I understand where you're coming from. But I'll never wear your skin or live your life. I get that it must be super difficult to come from a place without a home, where everyone has to do their individual part to contribute because there just isn't enough to go around… I know that it must be really hard to want something other than to go back with your fair share, to want to choose yourself. And as convoluted as it is, choosing to stay out here and help strangers over your community might be choosing yourself. But like I said, I don't think that's wrong."

"Why?" Nata asks, staring at me.

"Because, there just has to be more to life than what you were born into… The skin you wear, where you came from, what time you were born into… there has to be so much more than just those things you can't choose. We each have to have a greater destiny and purpose than that and I think it's your destiny to choose. Quarians are seen as what to everyone else?"

"Vermin." Nata replies flatly.

"You didn't choose that. You didn't choose to be a quarian, or to be born in a time where people can't see your worth beyond your exterior. Someday, hopefully soon, people will see all that differently. But those aren't things you can choose for yourself. What you can do is choose to hold your head up high regardless and be proud of who you are and the skin you were born with and to grasp all the hardship and decide for yourself how to use it. How are you going to change the world?" I ask crossing my arms.

"Isn't it enough to be like every other quarian and help my own people though?" Nata asks with a shake of her head.

I shrug. "Yeah I think it is. There's no measurement scale for this. There's no authority who decides who did more for the world. It's not really about changing the world, I just said that to get you to see that you can always get more out of life than you think you can. And I admit some people are disadvantaged because of what they look like, or where they were born. But I think that as long as you pursue what you want in life, unapologetically, then you're living a good life. And I mean pursue what _you_ want, not what someone else wants for you."

She sighs. "That's a very human outlook I think… but appealing nonetheless… thanks. I just want to help people. Everyone. My people need help but so does everyone here. People coming out here for Pilgrimage… it's like they've lived in that dark cave their whole life and they're going outside on a bright sunny day for the first time. It's blinding and almost painful. I feel some satisfaction, helping quarians on their Pilgrimages get what they need to bring back."

"That's a good thing for you to do." I say. "I don't think you're forsaking any duty by helping other quarians on their Pilgrimages."

She nods. "I don't think so either… most of the time. The Fleet needs resources not well-wishes."

I laugh. "Yeah, but people need well-wishes sometimes."

She looks at me and then nods. "Thanks."

"No problem. Listen, I need to head out. But could you do me a favor if you have time?" I ask, checking the time on my omni-tool. "I need more ADAM. All you need to do is stick a Keeper with a needle. Shouldn't be too hard, they don't squirm much, just don't get caught."

She fidgets a bit. "Yeah, I guess I could do that."

I shrug. "You don't need to if you are uncomfortable."

"What's uncomfortable about extracting blood from giant bugs?" Nata asks sarcastically. "I'll do it it's just weird… where are you heading?"

"Some guy Vaga told me to visit." I respond. "He does weapons and armor. Might be able to help me out."

Nata nods. "Good luck."

I leave my apartment and head outside, nodding to Dalarian along the way. I take a cab to the nearest drop off point to the address Vaga gave me on the Kithoi Ward. Though immediately I notice something doesn't seem right. This area seems more like an industrial area than anything. Regardless, I walk to the address and find, to my surprise, a small scrap shop. It's really a nothing looking sort of place, little more than a ramshackle shack. It seems grossly out of place on the Citadel, particularly in this sector surrounded by warehouses. Nonetheless, I head inside. Within, there is a low counter blocking further entry other than a few steps inside the door, with dozens of shelves of random scrap behind it. The place seems bigger than just what I can see however, as the shelves stack to either side of the room, out of view and down a hall of some kind.

I hear some noise coming from a large open hatch in the floor behind the counter. It sounds like annoyed grunting, as if someone's dealing with some troublesome machinery.

"Hello?" I call down.

The noises stop and there's a long pause; whoever's down there starts climbing the stairs. The whole room seems to shake with each step as the shelves behind the counter shake rapidly. Soon after, a very large figure appears emerging from the hatch and once at full height I raise my eyebrows. Before me is a massive krogan, with thicker limbs than the average krogan I've seen and somewhat taller in stature as well. His skin is a pale green, gecko-like color and his head-plate and scales are a much darker forest green. A large part of the left half of his face is scarred by thin crisscrossing scars, likely from shrapnel and a chunk of his headplate is missing on that side as well, the rest marred by similar shrapnel scarring.

He looks down at me with dark eyes. "Welcome. I am Jorgal Tyrannax best fucking weapons and armor smith in the galaxy. I have three questions for you."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Who are you? How'd you find me? And are you C-Sec?" Tyrannax asks, leaning forward, his breath sour.

I grimace. "I'm Splicer, a mercenary of sorts. Vaga Kotka recommended you and gave me your address. And no, I'm not C-Sec. In fact they're trying to find me and I could use some help with that."

"Finances permitting, I may be able to help with that." Tyrannax straightens and lifts the counter door, clearing a path for me. "I did work for a client of that turian's. Other than that you're only the second person I've seen from him. You need something special?"

"Special, yes. But discrete as well." I say, following him behind the counter and towards the hatch.

"Then I can help you. Again, finances permitting." Tyrannax says, heading down a steep ladder in the hatch with surprising dexterity. I follow, much more awkwardly.

"So, Tyrannax, what exactly sets you apart from the average armor place? Like why can't I go to an Armax Arsenal across the street and get something decent?" I ask, aware that I'm going to need to hardball, being that Tyrannax is a salesman.

He stops suddenly and I run into his back. He looks back at me with contempt. "If you knew anything about armor or guns, you would be here. If you don't go fucking right ahead and go there."

I shrug. "Sorry, I'm not trying to insult you. I want the best I can get and I want it discrete."

He nods. "Alright, come on then."

He leads me down a short dark hall into a large open basement with a low ceiling. The top of his hump barely clears the ceiling. The room is filled with machinery and piles of scrap metal. Armor plating, pieces of armor and gun parts are scattered all over the place in various stages of construction or repair. Tyrannax leads me to a large round platform with a metal ring on it.

"Stand on the platform and put your hands and feet in the slots on the ring." Tyrannax says walking over to a large drawing table with an old stool behind it. Tyrannax sits on the stool and pulls up a sheet of old-school paper, beginning to write on it already with a grease pen. I follow his instructions and get on the platform stretching my hands out and grabbing hand holds on the ring and sticking my feet into slots, taking on a Vitruvian man-like pose.

The ring begins to slowly rotate and I see blue lights scanning over my body.

"It's taking scans of your body to measure you properly." Tyrannax says, eyes locked on his drawing table. "Tell me what you want."

"I want something that I can move in but still with a lot of protection." I say, starting to feel a little nauseous already from the slow rotation. "I want it to cover my body from head to toe so it doesn't reveal any of my features. My identity being concealed is really important. It also needs to be… adaptable."

"Vaga mentioned you had some special 'conditions.'" Tyrannax says, writing on his drawing table. "What does he mean? You can get off the platform."

I step off the platform, a little dizzy and look around. "You got any cameras in here or anything?"

He looks up at me. "No."

"Good." I say, activating Incinerate and Electro Bolt. The veins of my right arm and my right iris turn blue and glow, electricity arcing between my fingers and up my forearm. My left arm ignites with flame as well with a quiet roar.

Tyrannax does not flinch or even widen his eyes. In fact, he lifts one brow and looks at me with a slight grin.

"Well." Tyrannax says. "Now _this_ is an interesting job."

I snap my fingers at a metal mannequin nearby and fire explodes off it. I then throw my right arm up, blasting it with electricity. I deactivate both plasmids and activate Winter's Blast and Telekinesis. I throw a bunch of metal tubing at the mannequin, some of the tubes impaling it, then I freeze it solid. Then I activate Aero Dash, a plasmid which creates a passage of negative air around me, literally vacuuming me towards something in a straight line at an incredible rate of speed, so fast I appear as a blur or even as if I teleport from one point to another. I dash at the mannequin and punch it as I end the dash, hitting it with incredible force. It shatters to pieces. I raise my bleeding hand which heals within a few seconds. I look at Tyrannax.

"So." He says after a moment. "You want something adaptable?"

"Yeah." I say with a nod. "I need it to be able to accommodate everything I just did. The fire shoots out of my hand in a wave of heat and pressure, so the gloves need to accommodate that. They need to be able to conduct electricity well, and it needs to be able to perforate and seal itself again because of my ice power. I want to be able to move easily in the armor, but have protection as well. Also it needs to be able to store a liquid supplement I use to power my abilities as well as inject it straight into me. Any other cool gadgets or things you can shove in there, be my guest."

"Guns?" Tyrannax asks, focused entirely on his drawing table again.

"Powerful, high punch and accurate. I don't care about fire rate so much. I aim when I shoot and I don't want to have to shoot 100 times before my enemy goes down." I say.

He nods thoughtfully. "Motif for the whole thing?"

I think. "Black. Black everything. I'm not picky, just a simple look. Though I want some sort of focal point on it. Like a defining feature that'll be synonymous with me and that people will focus heavily on so they maybe overlook other details."

He thinks for a bit. "Something intimidating then?"

I shrug. "I guess so."

"On the battlefield, some find the best way to intimidate to be bigger, stronger, tougher. But you want to know the secret to striking true fucking fear in your enemies?" Tyrannax asks, looking up at me. "Take the thing you are most afraid of and project it. You know how to be afraid of it. So harness that knowledge of fear, weaponize it, and use it. Make other people afraid of that thing the way you are. _Become_ the thing that you fear most and your enemies will fall."

"Okay Batman." I mumble sarcastically. Still, that's insightful as hell. And if I had to take a wild guess I'd say that Tyrannax knows what he's talking about in regards to fighting and striking fear in your enemies.

So, I think for a long time on it. What am I more afraid of than anything? It can't be an intrinsic feeling. Because I feel like what I'm really afraid of is getting dragged out of this world, feeling that sense of loss and abandonment all over again because I'm loving it here at least in comparison to Rapture. I couldn't take that again. No, I don't think I can represent that physically to my enemies.

And then it hits me. Yes I can. I don't know how or why I've been getting dragged universe to universe. But I know who, or what, is doing it to me. Not exactly but I remember it. That thing in the dark. I remember its face, just seeing a fleeting glimpse of its face. Just a bare skull, half stark white bone and half dark raw metal.

I relay that image to Tyrannax who looks thoughtful for a moment. "That'll be tough, getting it to look like bone on one side, but that'll look scary as shit so I'll give it a shot. I'm thinking a rough enameling on the exterior of the plate. Might work. Anyway, I can add a few special features to the armor as well."

"Like?" I ask.

"Specialized VI, flexing armor plates, modular plating instead of attached pieces so you can move easier in it, and I developed a special impact diversion system that'll protect you against long falls." Tyrannax says looking up at me.

I nod. "Yeah that all sounds good."

"Okay, give me an hour." Tyrannax says getting to his feet, rolling the paper up. "You can wait on the couch if you like."

I blink. "What?"

"It's not going to take that long, just wait on the couch. The printers are already doing the work." Tyrannax says.

I look around, find a dirty old couch and go sit on it. I sigh and play games on my omni-tool while I wait. After about 45 minutes or so of listening to Tyrannax grunt and curse and kick piles of scrap out of his way, he comes over to me with a black jumpsuit that covers the whole body up to the jaw.

"Put this on and I'll show you how the rest works." He says, tossing me the jumpsuit.

I look at it and frown. "Do I wear anything underneath it? How do you know it'll fit?"

"It was designed to fit you based on scans of your body. And no, you wear nothing underneath." He says with a roll of his eyes, stomping off.

I frown again and strip down, pulling the suit on with some difficulty. It's matte black with a hex pattern on its exterior and feels smooth and soft like sealskin but dense to the touch. Pulling it on, it fits a little loose at first but as I tug it on it tightens to fit me like a glove somehow. On the back is a large matte black metal spine that closes the opening in the back of the suit and forms against my body, fitting tightly but not uncomfortably. The inside of the suit is lined with a soft gel like substance that was initially cool but quickly warms up from my body heat, feeling nice against my skin. The feet of the suit also have padded soles on the bottom.

I walk over to Tyrannax who nods at me approvingly. "Good it fits. That's a suit of my own design. Normal armor fits over a light layer of clothes, putting on with straps and shit. That I call a plate-carrier suit. It allows the armor pieces to be attached over it using both magnetic and friction adhesion. It's better because the armor won't bounce around and tire you out; it'll be like it's a part of you. Watch."

He walks over to me with a black chestplate and presses it onto my chest. It adheres to me by itself and stays firmly attached to me. He starts attaching other armor plates to me and explains how they work as he does.

"The armor's power source and VI are stored in that metal spine on the back, and it also has internal storage for whatever liquid substance you requested. The spine itself is nigh indestructible but additional armor plating will provide further protection. It'll also inject you with your drug using the gel lining in your suit, like a forced osmosis. This is based off a batarain armor design that lets their soldiers inject themselves with adrenaline and steroids with a thought. The gel is conforming to the consistency and pH of your flesh, so it'll be able to transfer your drug straight through your skin, no needles necessary. And no, don't worry it's not adhering to you. It's more like a thin layer of artificial fat on the outside of your skin, delivering vitamins to your body. The suit itself is also tough as hell, can stop some bullets and knives. The armor plating can stop most firearms as well and protects your vital organs." Tyrannax explains, putting two shin guards with attached armored boots on the floor that I step into. They close automatically, snapping shut and holding tightly against my legs. Tyrannax hands me a cod piece. "You can put that one on yourself."

I scoff and put it on and put on the belt he hands me with several belt pouches on it.

"Once the whole thing is on, the armor should sync up with your body." He says holding up my helmet to me. "The helmet can't be removed by anyone but you. You control it with your mind and it can only be taken off with a willful thought from you."

I take the helmet and put it on, feeling it close tight around my head, with space in front of my face to breathe. I feel the spine on the back attach to the helmet.

He holds a mirror up to me. "Satisfied?"

I look at myself. I am definitely satisfied.

The armor is pearl black, with only a slight gloss. It covers my upper back and chest with bulkier plates while leaving my midsection, hips, and lower back covered with segmented plates that allow me to move freely. The arms are protected completely as well with armor that is fitted so well together it looks almost like a single piece. It's not bulky or gaudy, and conforms to the natural shape of my arms, making them look big and strong. My legs are protected by two heavy thigh plates that don't attach to the shin guards and protect the front and sides of my leg more heavily. The shin guards are a single thick plate that cover my leg from the top of my foot to just above my knee. The knee guard is attached to the shin guard and articulates with it, not restricting my leg movement at all. The bracers and shin guards are also edged in a blade-like shape meaning I can deal some wicked damage with a kick or a backhand forearm strike. There is a belt strapped around my waist that attaches to the metal spine and has a few black Kevlar pouches on it.

The helmet is the most striking feature of all. It is shaped to fit my head so perfectly that it looks like my own skull, proportional to my body. It is mostly black with the face designed to look intricately like a skull. The right part of the skull's face, from just above the temple, around the back of the cheekbone down to the top set of teeth, encompassing the eye and brow as well are bone white. The rest of the mask is black. The sockets of the helmet are black and I see no actual way for me to see through them, yet I can without a problem.

"Turning it on and transferring master control to you." Tyrannax says, typing in his omni-tool.

The armor suddenly comes to life with a few pale blue lights on the armor's chest, back and helmet. The within the dark eyes holes of the skull, glow two tiny blue dots that, somehow move with the same motion as my own eyes, making the skull simply look like my own face. I feel the armor moving itself slightly before settling and allowing me to control it. I feel strong, light, and invincible.

"You can open the helmet with a thought." Tyrannax says.

I do so, and the mask of the helmet flips up off my face and the jaw lowers. As the mask opens, there's a hiss as the air pressure within the helmet escapes and it looks, sort of, like the skull's mouth yawns open and my face is inside.

"Dude." I say with a shake of my head. "You are the fucking best."

Tyrannax grunts. "Damn right. Make sure to keep your fingers clear of your face when it closes. It snaps shut hard enough to take them off."

I let the mask close and it does snap shut with surprising force, speed and noise. Another hissing sound occurring as my helmet repressurizes. Tyrannax nods approvingly.

"Good armor." He says. "Now the guns. How do you like them holstered?"

"Standard I guess?" I say with a shrug taken aback by the sound of my voice. The helmet, apparently doesn't obstruct my hearing even though it's sealed. It's probably works like there are microphones outside my helmet directly connected to speakers within. My voice is filtered and deepened. I sound… scary to say the least.

He nods and hands me, to my surprise, a black leg holster with a straps and an incorporated pouch and what looks like some kind of shoulder holster or harness.

"So, to shove all those features into your armor, had to omit some stuff." He says. "Namely, the magnetic clips for your guns. Though I prefer this way anyways, because at least this way if your armor's power source were to ever fail, your guns won't fall off of you." Tyrannax says. "Anyway, go ahead and put them on and I'll get your guns ready.

I put the leg holsters on first. There are actually two, sort of. The right one connects to my belt and right thigh with several adjustable straps. The holster itself is hard plastic surrounded by a Kevlar-like material with a large pouch on the front of it, allowing me to store things if need be. The left leg holster is merely one long strap that attaches to my belt, runs down my left thigh and attaches with two more straps to my thigh. On the long strap running down, there is a long ovate metal plate. I make sure it fits well and doesn't move much and then put on the shoulder holster.

It looks merely like a heavy duty black harness that wraps around my shoulders and crosses over my back with two straps. The straps are each connected together by ovate metallic plates that sit on top of each of my shoulder blades. I roll my shoulders to make sure it fits okay and Tyrannax returns with several guns.

"Okay, so here's the pistol. Called a Tyr-7 Ranger." He says handing it to me. "It's very powerful, high caliber. Accurate and fast firing. Low shot yield though. You can probably get five quick shots out of it in quick succession before it overheats."

The pistol looks more like a revolver. It is longer and less… blocky than most other guns, with simple pale blue glowing iron sights. It looks more like a gun that I'm familiar with in other words. Less square and futuristic and more rugged and intimidating looking. The heatsink in it sits above the trigger guard, exposed to air making it look just like a revolver, with a long barrel relative to the rest of the gun. I holster it, noticing it clips into the holster, but doesn't collapse like other modern guns.

"Why doesn't it collapse?" I ask with a frown.

"Not enough space inside." Tyrannax says. "Sacrificed that capability in order to fit the enlarged ammo block inside to compensate for larger caliber shots. Don't worry though, the holster will only release the revolver when you're reaching for it so nobody else can just grab it. And it has a special safety that activates automatically when it is holstered and deactivates when it's drawn."

"You've been watching human westerns?" I ask quick drawing the revolver dramatically but not shooting.

He frowns. "Anyways… I also have a shotgun and an assault rifle for you."

He hands me a shotgun, looking pretty typical in comparison to other shotguns of the era in terms of appearance. It's a bit longer however, I'd say, and it has a pump action on it along with the ridges and grooves that seem to be idyllic with Tyrannax's weapon design.

"That's the Tyr-18 Revenge. You can manually vent the heat with the pump, just make sure to keep the end away from your face cause it'll come out the front." Tyrannax says. "Also, you can switch ammo types by pulling the pump back from its rear position. So it's in like a neutral position now. Slide it forward to vent it. Slide it back from the neutral position to change ammo types. It can fire normal buckshot or slugs. This one attaches to that magnetic plate on your left leg."

I lower it towards my left leg and it attaches to it automatically even from a few inches away, collapsing into a nice compact cylinder as it sticks to my leg. Finally, Tyrannax hands me an assault rifle, looking more aggressive and rugged than the average Mass Effect assault rifle. The avenger for instance is all nice curves and streamlined. This rifle is more like an M-4. Grooves on grooves, rough and intimidating.

"Nothing much to say about that assault rifle." Tyrannax says. "Tyr-22 Night Watch. It's one of the more powerful automatics I produce, fairly accurate too with a shot capacity of 18 rounds of continual fire, 28 rounds when firing in short bursts. It is a bit on the heavy side though and it kicks rough so I wouldn't recommend firing continually if you don't need to."

"Not a problem." I say, hefting it and then attaching it to one of the plates on my back. "I like it."

"Last but not least." Tyrannax says handing me 5 round metal disks about the size of clay pigeons but flatter. Three and black and silver and two are bright orange. "Three standard frag grenades, nothing fancy. Kill radius of about 7 meters with remote detonation and magnetized bases so you can stick them to metal surfaces. They have different modes like proximity or timed detonation, just set it with your omni-tool. And the two orange ones are flashbang grenades, same principle, less deadly. Brighter than a blue star though so by the Ancestors do not look at it when it goes off with your bare eyes.

"Good." Tyrannax says. "As for payment, Mr. Kotka advanced me 15,000 credits paid over a few months, which brings your total down to 8,000 credits."

Damn. That turian is very generous. I transfer payment to him and then extend a hand to him.

"Thanks Tyrannax." I say with a nod. "You are the best at your craft."

"I know." He says with a curt nod before walking off without shaking my hand. "See yourself out. Plenty of Alliance and mercenary types walk around so you should be fine in your armor and with your guns. Good luck kid. And just call me Tyr."

I leave the basement workshop and leave Tyr's place, heading back to the cab terminal. As I do, I get a message on my omni-tool. As I look down at my arm, it intuitively becomes sheathed with the orange glowing display of my omni-tool. A new message, encrypted. Knowing that this is most likely from one of the Shadow Broker agents that Vaga gave my information to, I excitedly decrypt it using the program Vaga downloaded onto my omni-tool. Omni-tool is getting to be a mouthful. Think I'll start referring to them as OTs from now on.

Once completely decrypted I read the message:

" _Splicer: You've been recommended for your discretion and efficiency. The Shadow Broker has a job for you that pays very handsomely. This is extremely time sensitive. You must respond immediately if you accept."_

I type a response as quickly as I can. Which isn't very quick as I'm still clumsy as all hell with this damn thing.

A moment later, the response comes and automatically decrypts.

" _Good. Recently, extremely sensitive information has been aquired_ _by a broker. This information is worth millions to the right buyer. This information may severely compromise the operations of the Blue Suns Mercenary Bureau and as a result, the broker has been targeted by mercenaries working for the Blue Suns for assassination. At present, the broker is the only individual possessing this information. Your job is to protect the broker while the information is distributed to other brokers on the Citadel. Your success means the information will be preserved on numerous databases that the Blue Suns can't hope to hack into or track, so then the information can be sold to a buyer or ransomed back to the Blue Suns for millions._

" _You must meet the broker immediately. He will be waiting for you outside of Eternity Lounge. Be prepared for anything. Sources are suggesting that the Blue Suns distributed handsome bribes to keep C-Sec off their operatives' backs."_

Well, I'm almost ashamed to admit it. But the prospect of this is so exciting I'm almost shivering. No C-Sec? Resistance? Maybe this is fucked up, but Rapture always had me on edge. There I could be attacked at any moment, a small fight could easily turn into an hours long shootout, I'd never sleep continually even in my heavily fortified dwelling… All that meant my adrenaline would spike at a second's notice. A sudden sound, something as small as a breath or something scraping against the wall would set me into a state of overwhelming alert that it was hard to come down from. Years of that? It gets deep into your head. In the time I've been here, I've been so incredibly on edge. If someone so much as drops something too loud it takes all my willpower not to spin around with a gun leveled or a plasmid activated and ready. Just… this sense of ever-present danger kept me alive for 6 years in Rapture? Here? It's likely to get someone who doesn't deserve it hurt and get me in prison. And the saddest thing is that it seems the longer I go without satiating this danger-sense with actual danger the more on edge I am.

So hopefully this is dangerous as fuck. Let's call it a fix.

I get into a cab and fly out to Eternity.

* * *

 **12:18 PM January 3, 2182**

I get out of the cab, my helmet tucked under my arm. I definitely turn some heads in my armor. I'm getting a lot of looks from people and C-Sec. Tyr was right in saying that there are plenty of merc-types and soldiers from the Alliance and Council militaries around but people still look. Maybe I should come up with a way to make this look more subtle. Particularly with this helmet, which is why I have it off. It's fucking scary as hell. I saw my reflection in the window of the cab when I was getting in and I look like a fucking demon or something. I mean that's great for intimidation and whatever but it'll also scare the fuck out of random people and possibly draw some attention which is why I have it off for now. I'd rather have it on because Vaga was right; I need to keep myself anonymous. This helmet needs to associated with what I do, not my face. But for now, until I figure out a way to make this more subtle, I should keep this as low key as possible. Besides, I don't think there's any association between my helmet and my face, not yet anyway.

I walk towards Eternity and this whole area feels familiar to me. This was in the games for sure, I think the first one. Ah, it definitely was, I remember this unnecessarily long ass hallway. I walk down the hall and see a few guys in armor at the end of this stretch where it cuts left. They're huddled together talking with weapons drawn.

These _must_ be some of the guys the Blue Suns hired. They're probably figuring out a plan of action before they head inside. A plan quickly formulates in my mind. I put my helmet on and start heading down the hall, walking deliberately towards them. As I approach, I draw my shotgun but keep it lowered and held unthreateningly in my left hand by the barrel.

They notice me approaching after a moment when I'm about halfway down the hall, my boots echoing hard, heavy and deep. They all turn towards me but don't raise their weapons, looking equal parts suspicious and confused.

One of them gets antsy and steps apart from the group, submachine gun held tightly in her hands slightly raised to me. "Who-"

"Fuck off." I growl firmly and loudly enough to take her aback. "Don't point that at me. Are we doing this or not?"

"What?" Another merc asks, frowning suspiciously, hand on the grip of their pistol at their hip. "Who are you?"

"Freelancer." I say, still not used to the sound of my voice with this helmet. "Suns hired me last minute. Thought you guys could use a hand."

"We don't need your help." Says the third merc angrily. "So-"

"Look, they're worried that the Broker is preparing some heavy resistance for the target. Based on what the information is worth? I wouldn't be surprised if every single person in that club is a sleeper for the Shadow Broker. You three think you can handle all that and the target? You need the extra gun. Besides, I've already been paid an advance independent of your rates so you don't need to share." I say forcefully, trying to sound as firm and confident as possible even if I'm lying out of my ass.

They look at each other. "You were paid in advance?"

"Paid an advance." I correct, doing a cursory inspection of my shotgun. "I get the rest later."

"How much?" The merc with the SMG asks.

"18k for now. Twice that later." I reply in a nonchalant manner. I don't actually know how much mercs should get paid I just shot high… I hope.

"Fuck." One of the mercs says, taking his hand off his pistol. "We're not getting a quarter of that. Who did you say you are?"

"Worth the money." I reply. "Are you three?"

This angers the one with the SMG, presumably their leader. "Worth more than you are by yourself that's for damn sure."

"We'll see about that." I reply. "If you are, I'll have your back in there and have your back should you ask for more money from the Suns."

The one with the SMG seems to relax. "Alright. We were talking a plan."

"Mm. And?" I ask.

"The target is krogan so we need to hit him fast. And since it's a public place we need to use the chaos inside to get out of there quick. We're going to go in, hit him on all sides and take him down and then get out of there." Says the leader. She pauses and then continues. " _If_ the Shadow Broker has hired resistance against us, you can watch our back against them while we hit the target."

I nod. "Alright. I'll follow your lead then."

She nods. "Let's go!"

She leads the way as the other two fall in behind her one on each side. I let them go ahead and walk with them, behind them and in the middle. I don't want to make them nervous of me so I keep close enough that the two behind the leader could see me in their peripherals. We walk together down the rest of the hall and towards the door into the club. There's a security guard outside the door. When he sees the four of us, he looks at the ground. He's been paid off too it seems.

We walk into the club and look around. At this hour, it's still surprisingly busy. The place isn't full by any means but there are plenty of people here nonetheless. We all look around the room.

"No krogan." I say after a second of looking.

"No… Wait! There at the back!" The leader says pointing. I look where she points and I see a very large dark shape slipping through a door at the back of the club and out of sight. "Let's go!"

I follow them close as we move across the dance floor to the back room. I look at the bartender who is averting his gaze from us. The club goers for the most part seem to notice us, at least those who we walk past. Guess the Suns didn't pay everyone off. I prepare myself as we reach the door and the merc leader opens it, SMG raised and ready. The room we walk into is a small storage room, with a lot of boxes and shelves.

We're quickly alerted as a crate gets knocked over from the top of a stack on the other side of the room and a shelf full of liquor rattles as someone knocks into it from behind it. Is the krogan trying to hide? Cause he's not doing a good job. I see a dark shape behind the stack of crates, partially visible through the shelf of liquor next to it.

"We see you!" The leader shouts towards him as we move into the room together. I hang back and close the door. "Come out and you won't be hurt!"

I hear loud heavy and shaky breathing from behind the crate for a tense moment before the crate rattles as the krogan moves out from behind it. Good fucking god. This is _easily_ the biggest krogan I've seen. He must be an abnormally large specimen of their species cause he stands at maybe 8 and a half feet tall, with a massive hump. The ground, the shelves and crates all shake as he walks out from behind the crate, his weight clearly much greater than that of most krogan as well. Aside from being incredibly large, he looks incredibly dangerous. His skin is a rust red and his head plate is blood red and perhaps larger and more grand than a typical krogan's. Curiously, however, part of his head plate (and head for that matter) look like it's been blasted off. A large part of the left side of his head plate is just missing. So large a part that part of his head and hump seem to have been lost as well. It looks, to me at least, that he was shot in the head with a very big gun and somehow survived. This disfigurement is severe enough that the left side of his face seems deformed somewhat, his eye sagging a bit and his mouth drooping on that side with scarring on that side as well. His massive hands are clutched together in front of him and his pose is not intimidating in the slightest.

"Please don't kill me." He says, sounding meek despite a deep, loud and oddly slightly slurred voice.

Um. What? I notice the three mercs each seem as confused as I do as they all look at each other in confusion, going so far as to lower their weapons a bit.

"You're Urdnot Ram'lokk?" The leader asks, trying to sound intimidating despite also sounding confused.

"Uh…" The krogan is quiet for a while still looking scared. "Yeah… Please don't kill me."

The merc leader looks more confused than ever. "Well… sorry but I have to."

"Nooooo!" The krogan wails.

"Oh for God's sakes." I mumble with a roll of my eyes. I shoot the merc on my left with my shotgun and in the head, blasting it into nothingness and then kill the one on my right with a shot to the chest as he turns. The shotgun has immense kick and power but slow fire rate. Slow enough for the leader to spin around.

Reacting quickly, I activate Incinerate and send a blast of fire at her with a snap of my fingers to try and immolate her, but she gets a quick burst of gunfire on me that sets my aim off. The fire explodes against her SMG, cutting off the gunshots that hit me. They're stopped by my shield but it breaks and a few bullets make it through and hit my chest and shoulder. Though it knocks me off step a bit, I feel no pain other than a bit of soreness from my armor stopping the bullets.

Fuck this is good armor. The merc leader quickly ditches her flaming SMG and draws a pistol as I advance towards her, closing the distance between us. She manages to get off two shots at me as she backpedals, both hitting me in the head as I close the distance. She's better than I thought but not that good. The rounds that hit my head ricochet off my cheek and forehead harmlessly thanks to the irregular shape of my helmet and I grab her wrist as she fires off a third shot into the ceiling as I pull her arm away. She goes to knee me in the groin but I point my shotgun down onto her thigh as her knee comes up. As the barrel of my shotgun connects, the force of her kneeing eases my trigger pull and blasts her leg in half. She screams in pain and collapses. I let go of her and let her fall. I holster my shotgun and step over her, drawing and firing my revolver into her head as I do so. Her screaming is silenced as I walk up to the krogan, this Urdnot Ram'lokk.

At this point he's crouched down where he was standing with his hands up in front of him. "No! Don't kill me!"

I frown under my helmet and holster my gun. "I'm not being paid by the Shadow Broker to kill you."

"You… You're working for the Broker?" The krogan asks, standing slowly.

I nod. "I'm here to protect you. Call me Splicer."

"Splicer… Thank you!" He shouts, his speech slightly slurred. "Thank goodness they found someone! Last I heard I was on my own! This is great!"

"Good god, calm down." I say stepping away from his incredibly mass as it flails around in excitement. "We need to leave."

"Oh yeah right!" Ram'lokk says. "Yeah! We need to get this information to another broker. I know of one on the Presidum with a secure server off-Citadel. He can move it to other brokers faster than I can and then we'll be in the clear."

"They're going to try and stop us." I say heading towards the door.

"Goodness I hope not. You think they got more guys?" Ram'lokk asks nervously, stepping gingerly over the corpses as he follows me.

I pause and look back at him. "Of course they have 'more guys.' What's up with you? You're acting really weird for a krogan. I thought they're supposed to have blood rages and be invincible."

"Hey don't typecast me!" Ram'lokk says putting his fists on his hips. "Not all krogan are just raging brutes!"

"News to me." I say with a frown. "Were you born off Tuchanka and adopted by Hanar or something?"

"No!" Ram'lokk replies sharply but more like a child would rather than a huge krogan. "I was born to Clan Urdnot! A strong and healthy krogan, declared by the shaman to become a great warrior and leader!"

"Okay and you decided to go to art school and major in Pacifistic poetry instead right?" I ask sarcastically.

"No!" Ram'lokk replies, sounding like he's starting to get legitimately angry but still not intimidating. "I was strong and dangerous and killed many! I passed my Rite of Passage and even slayed a thresher maw!"

"And?" I ask.

"And… I was so good at fighting that I was getting bred for Clan leader by the shaman." Ram'lokk says starting to sound more meek again.

"And?" I ask again, getting more curious.

"And… I was going to take the Rite of Authority against the leader at the time… and… he had someone try to kill me while I was sleeping… and they shot me." He says before pointing up at the gap in his head. "And… things just weren't the same after that. I wasn't the same."

Oh fuck that's shitty. If I had to guess he got shot with a shotgun at point blank in the head but survived and now he's just kind of fucked up but still functional.

"Damn… so _then_ you went to art school." I reply trying to lighten things up.

He actually laughs. "Not quite."

"Alright let's get moving. Shouldn't fuck around anymore. I'll keep you safe, don't worry." I say opening the door again.

Outside the door however is a different scene than the one I had last seen. The whole club is emptied of patrons and in front of me, positioned around the bar are a dozen or so mercenaries. They're facing towards me and as I step out of the room I pause for a moment.

"Don't worry guys!" I shout loud enough for Ram'lokk to hear and not leave the room. "I got him! He's in here."

"Who the fuck are you?" One of the mercs behind the bar shouts back.

"Freelancer! Got hired last minute came to help out the first team in but they got killed quick by that krogan. Huge he is." I respond walking towards them calmly.

"Yeah…" The merc I'm talking to says. "So he's dead?"

"Yeah. Wasn't easy." I respond walking up to the bar while about half the mercs start moving towards the back room. "Lot of meat on him."

"Yeah…" The merc frowns at me. "Who are you exactly?"

I shrug leaning on the bar with one arm, my other reaching towards a belt pouch with a grenade in it. "New to the game. A freelancer."

The merc leans against the bar and I see now on his upper arm he has a Blue Suns tattoo. "Right. And your name?"

"Splicer." I respond, slowly pulling out a grenade with my left hand, looking back at the group of mercs slowly gathering near the back room.

I hear a click behind me and look back at the Blue Suns merc who is holding a gun to my head. "Never heard of you."

"Most people haven't." I say holding my free hand up lazily towards him, opening my fingers slowly. "Most people will have soon though."

I activate Electro Bolt and electrocute him. The gun in his hand goes off as he spasms and smokes but I move out of the way avoiding it easily. I turn back to the group of mercs near the back room and toss the grenade at them, using my omni-tool to detonate it as it reaches their feet. They all go flying, blown apart by the explosion. I quickly roll over the bar and land on top of the Blue Suns mercenary I electrocuted just as gun fire starts ripping through the room at me. He's smoking, blood dripping from his nostrils and tear ducts.

I draw my assault rifle and stay behind the bar as I move around it. As I do, a merc vaults over the bar and sees me mid vault, his eyes widening. I activate Winter's Blast and hit him with a blast of frost as he lands, freezing him in a flash. As I pass by him, I simply press the assault rifle against his head and fire a short three shot burst. Blood sprays from the other side of his head but he remains positioned there, frozen semi-solid. I quickly stand up and spot another merc coming towards the bar with his weapon raised. He starts shooting at me immediately and I duck back down, taking a few hits. I move quickly around the bar to the end and go to peek around but another merc is there. He kicks me in the head and knocks me back. I roll backwards, letting go of my assault rifle and activating Telekinesis on instinct. I raise both my hands as I land on my back and tear his shotgun out of his grip and send it flying across the room. I then activate Electro Bolt and zap him. He stumbles back, thrashing and groaning in pain. I pick my rifle back up and shoot a longer than average burst at his prone form.

Tyrannax wasn't lying. Quite a bit of kick on this one but the power isn't something to bat an eyelash at. This merc's armor might be cheap looking and light but it stood as much chance against my assault rifle as Ewok arrows on a storm trooper's armor. Speaking of, how useless is their shit?

I rush out of the bar, assault rifle ready. The last merc sees me right away again, opening fire but I just take it as I dart to the side and then start shooting. It becomes a test of shields and armor at that point and mine stand out as much better than his. My armor is scratched and the paint chipped away, leaving a dent as well but otherwise no harm done. He has holes straight though him.

Good guns. Good armor. I holster my assault rifle and wander about the bar to make sure everyone is dead.

"Ram!" I shout. "Come on!"

He meekly exits the back room after a moment, stepping lightly over the corpses blown apart by the grenade. "You killed all of them by yourself!"

"Mmhm." I mumble leading to the exit.

"The Shadow Broker hires well." He muses following me closely as I peek out of the bar.

"Let's take a cab." I say leading him out of the club and back into the long hall. I start feeling on edge, that old familiar feeling. Very familiar, but unsettling nonetheless.

I look back towards Ram'lokk. "I'm feeling uneasy about this right now. Hang back for a second."

He nods and I continue forward towards the place where the hall makes a sharp right turn back toward the main thoroughfare of the Ward. I reach the corner and draw my assault rifle and peek around the corner. I see another 8 mercs heading this way still far down the hall, not really in a formation of any kind but in heavier armor and all with assault weapons. I groan quietly and turn back towards Ram'lokk. I wave him back and hold up 8 fingers.

He pales though I had no idea that was even possible for a krogan and starts backing up. I take my last two grenades and place one against the wall right at the corner where it magnetizes. I take the other one and put it on the opposite wall of the hallway and walk back towards the club quickly taking out one of my two flashbangs. I walk into the club and program the frag grenades to explode with a two second delay upon proximity detection. I close the club door and put my assault rifle away. I lean against the wall and wait, examining the flashbang.

"What are you doing?" Ram'lokk asks.

"Just waiting." I respond with a frown.

30 seconds pass in silence. After another 30 agonizing seconds where I start to get anxious, I hear two muffled pops.

"Okay!" I say opening the door and looking out. Two large clouds of grey smoke are filling up the end of the hall. Three mercs stumble forward out of the smoke clearly disoriented already. Not knowing actually how many of them I got with the two grenades, I draw my revolver and aim carefully. I kill one with a headshot, kill another with two shots to the chest and kill the last one after another three shots. My gun overheats, emitting a high-pitched beeping and venting hot air out of the barrel. The smoke clears up and two more mercs are still standing. I throw the flashbang like a frisbee at them.

But I was never really good at frisbee so the grenade curves up in the air and looks like it'll fall behind them. So I activate Telekinesis and guide it back down and hold it at their eye level. They're still pulling themselves together and as they reorient themselves I detonate the flashbang, looking down as I do. I hear a bang that is nigh deafening even from 30 feet away and I hear the two of them scream and start shouting, disoriented, and confused. I stride forward quickly and take four shots at one of the mercs, killing him on the fourth shot. The other one is still stumbling around and trips over the corpse of one of his compatriots. I see him drop his gun and hold his hands up, eyes seeing blindly and ears hearing nothing. He's also bleeding somewhat from his ears.

"Don't shoot! Please I give up!" He shouts, not actually looking at me but I don't think he can see. "I-I can't see! Please I can't fight!"

I holster my revolver and activate Telekinesis. I pull all the guns in the hall near the bodies towards the club and walk forward.

"Come on." I shout back over my shoulder and I hear (and feel) Ram's heavy footsteps hurrying after me.

I walk past the kneeling merc as he breathes heavily looking around but not seeing anything, hands still up. As I walk by him I lean down and put my hand on the side of his head, gripping his ear and holding him hard and steady. I turn his head and look at him. Young. Maybe my age… hm.

I lean down and put my head next to his.

"Can you hear me?" I ask, my voice deepened and filtered heavily by the helmet.

"Y-Yes." He says quietly.

"Listen carefully. Spread the word: My name is Splicer. This is my territory. Feel free to work. But by God, if you or anybody gets in my way I will not hesitate to tear through you. Never, _never_ , fight on the side I'm not fighting on. If you hear that I'm on a job, steer fucking clear. Tell everyone you fucking know. I will kill every single one of you in ways you can't even fucking imagine without a second thought if you are against me or if you even so much as come near me when I am on a job. Spread that. Tell everyone what fucking happened here." I say, pressing my thumb into his throat, my fingers pressing against the back of his neck and base of his skull not hard enough to do harm but more than hard enough to cause pain and let him feel that I have quite a strong grip.

He doesn't scream or cry out in pain. I just feel him shudder and he whimpers.

"Okay." He says quietly.

I let him go and walk down the hall, nodding for Ram to follow. He does so and we leave the long hall and walk straight towards a cab. I glance over at a C-Sec officer who stares at me as I walk by. He then looks away at the ground and then up at the hall and then back at me and says something into his omni-tool. He then walks away towards the hall to Eternity. Ram and I enter a cab, the cab listing slightly as he enters next to me. The cab takes off towards the Presidium.

"How'd you get into the business?" Ram'lokk asks turning to look at me, his head and hump scraping against the ceiling of the cab.

I glance at him. "Wasn't really my choice if I'm being frank. Didn't really… _intend_ to be a merc. But I've spent a good part of my life just surviving and killing. And being good at both those things I stepped into this occupation and I'm good at this as well and it pays well so here I am."

"I see. Makes sense." He says. "If it means anything I appreciate the help."

I shrug. "No problem. How did you start working for the Shadow Broker?"

"Well, when I recovered from my injury I left Tuchanka." He starts looking wistful. "I just didn't have the capacity for violence that I used to have so I started off by trying to get an education. Wasn't easy but I eventually got a degree in informatics. Basically what I do is I design servers and hard drives. I had actually designed a special kind of hard drive that used quantum dispersal for storage. Very small but has vast amounts of storage capacity. It works by storing the data in quantum entangled protons that get spread out from the server itself in a nigh infinite distance. In other words it spreads the data out into the space all around us and beyond and the server can call that data back cause it knows where it is."

"Warlord to genius informatics professional." I muse audibly. "That is quite a career change."

Ram shrugs coyly, his grin lopsided and his voice still slurred but in a pleasant sort of way. "Hey when you lose the part of your brain that tells you to hurt things you got to use what you have left am I right?"

"I guess." I say with a lazy shrug. "That's a blunt and rather specific way to put it and I wouldn't really know cause I still very much have that part of my brain, but I guess but that sounds right."

"Anyway I contracted with C-Sec to develop this tech with them and eventually came on as their informatic chief of staff as well as having similar positions at other companies, either consulting or contracting. Then the Shadow Broker reached out to me. I developed several hard drives for the Shadow Broker and then for their information dealers here on the Citadel. _Then_ I was paid to provide hidden back doors into the databases I develop and following that access codes to C-Sec and other corporate databases I had worked on. Made a lot of money doing that. Then, without the knowledge of the brokers here on the Citadel, I had left backdoors in their databases too. I took control of them and stole their data and their client lists and sold their information for them. Made even more money. The Shadow Broker was the opposite of upset about that and offered to maintain my status as an information broker for them here on the Citadel. I accepted and now I'm here."

"One of the corporations you made hard drives for was the Blue Suns?" I ask.

He nods. "You catch on quickly."

"So, you just found this information?" I ask.

"Not by chance if that's what you mean." Ram responds. "As a broker, I have contacts that alert me if something worthwhile comes through. Though sometimes I go through the hard drives of places I've worked. I usually find something worth selling. Nothing this high profile though. This time around I happened through the Blue Suns server and found they had encrypted the hell out of it without my signing off on it as their informatics consultant. That raised a few flags for me so I cracked it and found this very high profile information, copied it and deleted it from their server. But I think that's what got me in trouble, cause after I did that the back door closed, like they found it. And not long after that, I'm hiding from Blue Suns assassins behind a liquor shelf. No doubt they found me through that. Or maybe they knew they had a back door? Either way, they're after me now and I'm not suprised. It's really a life or death sort of thing."

"What is it?" I ask curiously. "The information they want back so badly?"

Ram shakes his head. "No, no, no! Not so easy to get things out of me! Needless to say it could mean that the Blue Suns get compromised to the point of not being able to operate in Citadel space anymore."

"That bad?" I ask with a frown.

"Yes! It would be astronomically bad if this information got out." Ram says with a puff of his cheeks.

"Out of curiosity, what is your plan?" I ask.

"How do you mean?" Ram asks.

"Well, you're known, by name and every other fine detail might I add, as the guy who two-timed his employer and stole information that would cost the Blue Suns millions if not billions in credits in contracts." I say thinking out loud again. "Who foiled assassination attempts and dispersed the data to other brokers in order to hold it ransom back to its owner, costing them millions of credits I assume. They'll know you can't watch your back forever and with the reach they have I doubt you could just get relocated in the Shadow Broker's convoluted version of the witness protection program. I mean let's be real we both know you're not doing this for moral reasons really, it's really about the money, why else did you take it?"

Ram looks pale, to say the least. Ghostly, really. Even his head plate looks a few shades lighter. "Well… I knew the information was important… worth something. But honestly I felt like it would save lives if they _didn't_ do what they're planning on doing."

"Mmhm." I mumble. "So?"

"So… Well, I don't have a plan really. And I think I did it for more than the money. I mean I didn't come up with the plan to ransom it off I was… hoping I guess that the information would get maybe sold around and then eventually leaked." Ram says with a gulp, no doubt imagining the hell of the next few weeks and the inevitability of his death at this point.

"Well, who says it can't leak?" I ask, beginning to think out loud as a rough plan forms in my mind. "I mean, if it meant your own protection, couldn't you just leak the information yourself? That would get the Blue Suns banned from this part of space and essentially make a few lightyears your safe-zone. And I'm not saying _you_ leak it per se. I mean, you said yourself that you designed the servers and drives that the brokers here on the Citadel use _and_ the ones that C-Sec uses. Who's to say that your expertise in this area couldn't just add the C-Sec server as a destination point when this information broker we're going to spreads things around for us? Who's to say that you couldn't conceal that with your expertise either, protecting both you and this other broker we're going to meet? Or who's to say we don't just slip the data into C-Sec's server because you said yourself that you've maintained backdoors right? And if we did that why don't we just… wait a few hours to do that so the Shadow Broker gets their money?"

Ram is silent for a moment. "But they'll want proof we've wiped it all off our servers!"

"Well who's to say the designer of servers doesn't have a closed circuit one we could store a copy of the information on?" I say with a shrug.

Ram is silent for a moment longer. "I do have one of those with me actually. So we copy the information to my closed server, deliver the information to this broker we're meeting, wait until the deal is done and the ransom is complete so the Shadow Broker makes their money and then send it to C-Sec?"

I feign a gasp. "Damn did you come up with that yourself? Good fucking plan!"

"Wait! But they'll know right?" He asks, thinking out loud too. "Like that's suspicious! The ransom is complete and then out of nowhere C-Sec just gets it? They know me by name they'll suspect me instantly!"

I think. "Well, I guess it's up to you then. Cause to cover your ass I figure you'd have to point the finger at someone else. Like the information gets traded, it's verified that all the servers holding the information are cleaned and then C-Sec gets their hands on it from a previously unlisted server? Yeah, it could be easy to point at you. Unless you can make it seem like that closed server was someone else's right?"

"Yeah." Ram says thoughtful. "Data isn't transferred the same way on my servers as on normal ones. It's more like when I want another server to have my information my server allows another server access to the data's physical storage point in space. Like it gives a literal address, for lack of a better term. They'll _know_ where the server itself is that sent the data location for this Blue Suns intel and be able to trace its location pretty easily if they have connections in C-Sec which I'm sure they do. It's really just a matter of leaving the closed server somewhere to implicate someone else… but couldn't I just leave it somewhere on the street?"

I shrug. "Maybe. But again they know you. Without the insurance of them going after someone else you might be shit out of luck."

Ram is silent for a while before he sighs and opens his omni-tool. After a while he pulls a small chip out of his belt, about the size of a micro-USB or a Nintendo DS cartridge. He holds the chip out to me.

"Data is on there and I'll still have access to it to initiate the transfer to C-Sec later. I'll leave it to you to leave that somewhere subtle in the next broker's office. Shouldn't be too hard cause it's small." He says a little quietly and after a palpable pause he looks me I the eye. "I've got more to live for than just this. I'll pay you out of my cut for this on top of the Shadow Broker's payment if you do this for me. Better this next guy than me... it's not right I know. But it's important."

For once he sounds confident, so I nod and slip the tiny server into my belt pouch. "I will."

I look out the window as we approach the destination. This place looks familiar.

"Embassies?" I ask, frowning at him.

"Yes." Ram'lokk says as the cab starts to land. "Our fellow broker's office is nearby, just past that Emporium over there. It's getting late so everything is closing down now."

Oh shit. "He's a volus?"

Ram nods. "Yes! So you've met him before! Though he probably didn't reveal he was a broker himself did he?"

I only sigh in response. This is tricky. I feel like that volus Shadow Broker agent is important in Mass Effect 1 but I can't remember exactly how he was. He gave some information to Shepard but I don't remember what it was exactly or if he had any significant importance to the storyline of Mass Effect. If I remember correctly, albeit very vaguely, you don't _need_ to talk to him though I can't remember what if anything happens if you don't talk to him. Ugh. Well isn't this a dilemma.

Honestly, I hadn't really thought too much about how my presence may affect the world or the events of the Mass Effect games. I did decide that I would try to be involved in them in some way or another, though I would like to be onboard the Normandy for the events of all the games. However I haven't thought about what that would mean. Would things play out differently? And if so, how differently? I mean… lord forbid but maybe there won't even be a Shepard. This might be self-serving and self-centered but what if I become the, for lack of a better term, protagonist? God. Forbid. I don't want to steal Shepard's limelight that's for sure I just want to be a part of this world, this world as I know it at least. So, if I plant this server in the volus broker's office, how will that change the events of the game? Because let's face it, there _will_ be a change. Like, if Ram did exist in the Mass Effect timeline, he only existed in the past before the events of the game. Cause I'm pretty sure that in the hypothetical scenario that all this actually happened in the game's canon, then Ram would have died in that club where I saved him because I wasn't there in the game's world. So just by me being here, doing something in this world big or small, I'm having an impact…

Or. Maybe I _am_ and always have been in the games world, except now I'm enacting my will upon it. Maybe in Mass Effect you can roll past a guy who looks like me while shopping at Dellan's Emporium but you don't think twice about it playing as Shepard cause this is the first time you're seeing a hanar or you're too stuck on the thought of having to wait like 4 months for your special Nelyna appointment or you're thinking about how slow Shepard runs or that the armor in this universe is really formfitting. And you ignore that Splicer-looking guy because he's not important at all, hell he doesn't even have a name or enough importance to be given close attention by the game designers when it comes to just how many polygons his face has, and yet now, for whatever reason, I am here and making a difference. Am I even me? Or am I just some creation? Inhabiting a form that was predestined?

Sorry, that's self-serving again. I may or may not be important at all to what happens in this world but I'm not going to take it lightly that I can have an effect on what happens here. Regardless of that though, I've already committed to this and I have time to figure out how to fix whatever I might fuck up by leaving this data in the volus's office. If he gets killed, what happens? I really wish I remembered how things played out better because, if anything, I could just appropriate his role in the game but I can't remember what he tells Shepard, let alone what the volus's name was, even.

I sigh and follow Ram out of the cab as it lands. I keep an eye out as we walk to the volus's office just a short ways away. I don't notice anyone particularly dangerous looking. Maybe a few but they just seem like normal people. I even see a few Alliance soldiers around so I feel relatively safe compared to at that damn deathtrap of a club. I'll be sure to leave a 2-star rating online for Eternity if I get the time later.

Ram leads the way into the office and I follow inside.

The volus, who is strikingly familiar even though volus all look exactly the same to me for the most part, looks up at us from his desk and raises a hand in greeting to us.

"Ah! Greetings Tuchanka-clan, and… Friend." The volus says with a pleasant tone despite him being clearly unsettled by my presence. "You are welcome here and safe. I have good people watching this place. I have been expecting you."

"Barla Von." Ram says approaching and shaking his hand vigorously. "Thank you for helping us, you won't believe the trouble we've been going through."

"I can only imagine." Barla Von says with a chuckle. "Well no need to worry any longer. My servers are prepped to distribute the data to about a dozen other brokers on and off Citadel, we should have ransomed the data back to the Blue Suns within the hour."

"Good." Ram says with a shaky sigh before opening his omni-tool. "Uh… Okay, here it is."

While he transfers the data with shaky hands to Barla Von, I look around the office and spot a potted plant in the corner. I walk over to it casually and lean against the wall between the plant and the door. I keep an eye on Barla Von as I reach into my belt-pouch and retrieve the chip. I drop it into the pot and cover it just barely with some soil with my fingertips, though that was probably unnecessary because the chip and soil are both dark colored.

Just as I'm doing this, the door opens and I look towards it. I see a flash of red as a figure moves inside the small office with impressive dexterity. I have only a fraction of a second to recognize that it's a mercenary, armed with a shotgun as he enters with his shotgun readied. With only another fraction of a second left before he blasts Ram with a shotgun from behind I go to dive forward at him to try to wrestle his gun from him being that I don't have any of my guns drawn and any plasmid I use in here might cause a lot of damage.

But just as I'm pushing off the wall to close the 3 or 4 foot distance to the merc, I catch another flash of movement and orange light from the corner of my eye, just before I'm knocked backwards against the wall with immense force. I grunt as I slam against the wall, my armor doing a number to protect me from the collision but whatever hit me hit me hard enough to crack a few ribs, that I can tell without a doubt.

I look up to see a turian in dark armor standing over me with his omni-tool alight, a huge square and brightly glowing fist projected over his own hand. Just as I start moving to action again, the first merc, a human I think in red armor, spins around and aims his shotgun at me. Damn I was stupid. I assumed he was going to shoot Ram and my reaction to grab him left me open to get hit by this turian. And now that I got stunned by his hit, I'm going to get blasted with a shotgun.

And that is what happens. The shotgun goes off with a deafening bang and I instantly feel blinding pain in my side. Fuck this is bad. These guys are good. In the span of maybe 3 seconds I've been bludgeoned and shot without a chance to stop it. Trying to fight off the pain and stay on my feet I look up at the turian pulling his arm back to hit me again, this time in the face. I quickly rush forward, pushing myself off the wall to get more momentum and crash into the turian, his blow narrowly missing my head and scraping against my helmet as I ram into him, my hands grabbing onto his arms.

Grinding my teeth and growling viciously I force him back and to the side, putting him between me and the merc with the shotgun. I then activate Electro Bolt and surge electricity through my hands and into the turian with more than usual effort. The turian screams and I smell burning flesh. The room is bathed in bright blue light as blinding arcs of lightning streak over my arms and across his body and even through him it seams as I wrestle with him and force him backwards with more ease now that he can hardly fight back. The lighting disappears in an inst I feel him crash into the merc with the shotgun and as he does, I let go of the turian with my right hand and draw my pistol and unload it into the turian's belly. Within two shots I've bored a hole straight through the turian and with the next three I've cut a hole straight through the human merc as well.

Breathing heavily and tasting blood, I drop the turian onto the human merc who doesn't even make a sound as the dead weight of the turian falls onto him.

"Splicer look out!" I hear Ram scream from behind Barla Von's desk just as I hear another gunshot from behind me. I feel a pain rip through my shoulder and I stumble forwards and trip over the corpses, grunting. I point my pistol backwards at the merc in the doorway as I struggle to keep my footing but it's overheated and won't fire. The merc standing in the doorway shoots me with her shotgun again. This one hitting me in the chest. My armor holds this time however and with an ugly wheezing grunt I activate Telekinesis and throw the revolver from my hand at her with as much force as I can produce with this plasmid. It flies out my hand with blinding speed and hits her in the head so hard I see blood spray as the revolver bounces off her head, bounces off the wall and lands somewhere in the corner. She stumbles back out of the office and collapses to the ground, unmoving.

With heavy ragged panting I get to my feet and draw my assault rifle. I stumble towards the door and lean against the wall next to it as I glance out carefully. A bullet grazes my helmet maybe a second after I poke my head out, sooner than I had the chance to actually see anything. My head snaps back and I stumble back around the corner behind the wall, the doorway still open. I touch my head and it seems the helmet held well. I reorient myself and lean out again, this time exposing less of my head and focusing on trying to see outside of the office.

It's only a second before I get shot at again but I see a trio of mercenaries, one with a sniper rifle, and the other two with assault rifles. They all three open up on me as I lean my head out to look at them but I pull my head back well in time.

"Are they insane?!" Barla Von screams from behind the desk, bullets tearing through the doorway and ripping into the desk which is holding together pretty well despite it all. "We're right next to the Embassies dammit!"

"Doesn't seem like they care!" I shout back, blind firing my assault rifle out of the doorway. "I don't have a plan here! We're kind of outmatched!"

"They're going to kill us!" Barla Von shouts back at me. "You have to do something!"

"I'm thinking!" I scream back, blind firing some more. A rough, risky plan forms in my mind and without any alternative I decide to go for it.

I take my last flashbang out of my leg pouch and get ready to rush out of the room. I activate it on a 2 second fuse and lob it out of the doorway so that it'll detonate at eye level. Before it even goes off, I'm moving and it detonates just as I'm rushing out the door. I manage not to get affected by it and without even attempting to take aim I activate Aero Dash and rush forwards towards the sniper who's behind a planter about 15 yards away.

The way Aero Dash works, essentially, is that my body produces a burst of intense pressure, producing a funnel-shaped pocket of negatively pressured space around me. I activate it at will and as I do so I produce a gust of intensely powerful air from behind me. I don't like to think of it as me letting out a fart so hard that I get shot forward at the speed of a jet airplane but essentially that is what's happening. So in a nutshell, the air coming out of my _back_ specifically (not my ass) propels me forward but the negative airspace around me also produces forward momentum as air rushes into the negative space, pulling me forward in a vacuum-like effect. It allows me to move short distances at nearly mach 1. The only downside to it is that I cannot change direction when I do it and the distance I travel is consistently about 15 yards or so, so if something is in my way I hit it at a _really_ fast speed and _really_ hard.

Sorry to interrupt the pace of this but I have a story. One time I was fighting a Big Daddy, a Rosie specifically and I was basically stumbling around a big ballroom trying not to get hit with red hot rivets. I tried to Aero Dash behind it so I could get it with my shotgun but ended up misjudging the distance and direction I was going and I ended up smashing the barrel of my shotgun through its helmet so hard that the barrel came out the other side.

I also broke my wrist, _so_ bad.

Anyway, I cross the 15 yard distance between myself and the sniper in less than a tenth of a second, my boots grinding into the soil on top of the planter as I come to a stop, my feet actually straddling his rifle on either side.

He looks up at me in bewilderment just in time to see my boot coming into his face. There is an extremely wet, loud crunch as his nose just disappears and all that's left is a big red hole. He flops back, blood spraying from his face, and leaves his rifle where it was. I quickly step down and turn around, taking hold of his sniper. I put it to my shoulder and kill both mercenaries with one shot each. One blasting through the back of the merc's head and the other through their torso as they both look around frantically for where I went.

Silence comes next and I assume I'm done but I hear shouting from behind me. Fearing C-Sec, I quickly vault onto and then over the planter and look back as I run back towards the office but see 10 more mercs changing towards us from around the corner.

Mother fucker. But just as they raise their guns to shoot at me, they stop in their tracks, looking around at each other. They then lower their guns and stare at me for a moment. Confused I stop too and look back at them.

One leans over and says something to their comrade but from here I can't hear what they say. Then they turn around and start walking away.

I look back at the office and see Ram coming out.

"They're stopping because the data's just been ransomed off." Ram says with his idyllic lopsided grin, handing my revolver to me. "No point risking their lives for it anymore!"

I sigh and lower the sniper I took and holstering the revolver. "Fuck me that was intense."

"Whoa you're hurt!" Ram says looking very concerned.

Only then do I realize just how hurt. I can feel blood on the inside of my helmet. I got shot several times earlier but each time my armor held. Close range blasts from a shotgun clearly aren't in this armor's range of protection however. Both went clean through me, one at my side where that first merc shot me. Thankfully it's well-off center and probably didn't hit any major organs. The other one is through my right shoulder, and much more painful.

"Listen, you go get medical help." Ram says before grimacing and bending down to pick up a dead merc. "Barla Von already called people to come clean this up but you should get out of here. I imagine that the bribes the Blue Suns distributed are only going to last so much longer. C-Sec will be here soon."

Fucking cops man. At least I could kill someone and just leave them there in Rapture. I groan and look around, without any idea of where I could go to get some medical help.

"You going to be alright by yourself?" I say to Ram.

He looks worried but nods regardless, putting on a brave face. "For now, and thanks to you, hopefully longer than that too. I'll get in touch with you to pay you for what you did in the office for me. For everything you've done for me today, thank you sincerely. For now, there's going to be too much heat for the Blue Suns to take action against me and if our plan works I won't be worth targeting later either."

I nod. "Okay, I'll see you soon. Good luck and be safe."

I start heading off, looking around and thinking wildly about where the fuck I should go. I might only have minutes until C-Sec gets here and this stupid Presidium is so poorly designed that I really don't have many places to go. Shouldn't go to the Embassies to get a cab. That place is probably full of civilians right now even though it's late and with all that fighting I'm sure they'll go nuts to see my armored ass running around. I start heading towards Dellan's Emporium, not knowing where else I should go.

As I run that way I hear a voice from an alley nearby.

"Psst! Over here!" I look and see a woman in a hoodie, with the hood pulled low in the alley. She waves for me to come over. "Come on! I can help!"

I hesitate for a second before rushing over to her, knowing I don't really have many other options.

"Damn!" She says as I reach her, her head low as she looks at my wounds. "You're hurt bad! I saw what happened! You were just defending yourself against those guys right? Where the hell is C-Sec?!"

"They're coming, most likely." I say, breathing heavily, my voice sounding deep and disturbing but scared nonetheless. "Those guys I fought were working for the Blue Suns."

"Holy shit." The woman says and only now do I see that she's an asari I can see her azure toned skin underneath the hood as well as some white markings on her neck, chest and chin. "Come with me! I know where you can lay low."

I follow her down the alleyway up to a door and only now do I realize that I've been here before, in this exact place. I mean it was a really hazy memory because I think I was on the verge or had already passed out but this door goes to the Consort's Chambers!

"Hang on." I say as she opens the door. "I think I know you."

"Just shut up and come on!" She says leading me inside. "I'll get some medi-gel for your wounds, that should help for the time-being."

She leads me to a room and opens it for me before running off. I enter the room slowly and swallow. This is that massage room I woke up in, where I met Nata and Nelyna.

I close the door and wait in the room. I put the sniper I'm still holding down in the corner and collapse into a seat next to it with a sigh and a groan. The asari returns a few moments later and closes the door behind her. She unzips her hoodie and removes it. She's wearing a workout outfit, just a tank and some leggings and comfortable looking shoes but I'm fucking stunned.

It's Nelyna. Again. Fuck this is almost embarrassing. She comes up to me and grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet and bringing me to the massage table.

"You have to take your armor off for this to really help." She says, looking for a way to remove it.

"Hold on." I say, gently pushing her back. I open my omni-tool and go to my armor's settings like Tyr showed me. I select the emergency doffing procedure and activate it. There's a loud hiss and all my armor pieces just collapse off, unsticking from the plate carrier suit. The individual pieces like the arms detach and slide off my arms. The leg armor snaps off in one piece and then collapses itself as I step out of it. The torso armor detaches from the front and collapses against the metallic spine on the back which opens up as well. I remove my belt and holster and lean back against the table before I reach up to pull my helmet off. But I hesitate. Should I?

Fuck it. She already knows me. I pull my helmet off and lean against the table.

She looks at me for a second and narrows her eyes. "Wait. You said you know me. You do know me. And I know you. I know I do… Wait. No way, wait! You're the guy from the lake!"

I nod, blood dripping down from the wound at my temple where the sniper bullet grazed my head. "Yup."

"Seriously?" She exclaims with a roll of her eyes. "It's been less than a week and you're back here again?"

"Yup." I mumble with a grimace as I try to stifle a groan as I reach up to remove the plate carrier suit.

She sighs and moves forward to help me and I let her. She pulls the suit open and I pull it down to my waist to protect some decency and allow her access to my wounds. She wordlessly starts apply it, a look of deep-thought on her face.

"What?" I ask, grimacing every once in a while as cold medi-gel fills the wound in my shoulder. Can't complain though as it has anesthetic in it as well and my shoulder is already feeling better.

"I knew from the second I saw that stuff you did in here that I would see you again and that you'd be in trouble again." She says with a shake of her head. "I just didn't expect it to be in the same work week."

"Sorry." I say as she gets to work on the wound above my hip.

"It's okay." She says, sounding far from being bereft of kindness despite the fact that I've made her risk her wellbeing for me twice in the same week

Feeling suddenly, really, really, _really_ shitty I lean back against the table more, letting it hold most of my weight. "In my defense, you offered both times."

She stops filling my wound with medi-gel and looks up at me with a flat affect but I can see the humor in her eyes. "You want me to stop?"

"Clearly I need you." I say with some humor as well. "And not just right now."

I meant it as a joke but she straightens and looks at me with apprehension. Wait, did she think I meant it like…?

"Fuck, no I didn't mean it like that…" I look down at myself and think out loud. "I say as I stand here, half-naked and sweaty."

She then starts to laugh and I can't help but smile too. When people are as bubbly and positive as she is it's hard not to feel better around her. She projects it well too.

"You look different." She says with a bright smile. I can hardly tell if she's happy to see me or if this is just what she's like all the time with everyone. Not letting vanity get the best of me I assume it's the latter.

"I hope that's a compliment." I respond, feeling a little, well, naked.

"It is." She says with a kind smiles. "I've been jealous of humans for that. You can change your appearances so easily and in so many different ways. You look like a completely different person."

"Uh thank you." I say looking down a bit. "For everything. I figured I was the go-it-alone type but I've needed more help from others in the past week than I have my entire life.

"Well, you owe me big time." She says pointing at me with a coy smile.

I start climbing up onto the table with some considerable trouble. "I sure as hell do."

"Dammit let me help you." She moves forward to help me onto the table but I put my hand out to stop her.

My foot then slips on some blood that'd pooled on the floor and with her putting weight towards me she falls with me and we both end up on the floor, her on top of me.

"You've got to be kidding me." I say thinking out loud again with a groan of discomfort from my wounds. "What is this an anime?"

She lifts her torso up and looks down at me and then, to my utter shock, laughs again. She laughs for a few seconds and then looks at me again, smiling. And I just kind of stare at her, shocked or stunned is a better way to describe it. Stunned by how beautiful she is and how kind her eyes and her laugh are and how just fucking shitty it makes me feel to think about how she's just the epitome of what a good person is while I'm a paragon of poopy things when my character is compared to hers. She gets off of me, continuing to smile before she helps me to my feet and then up onto the table.

"You can stay here for a while. Sleep here if you want." She says moving towards the door. "Probably a good idea that you do that. C-Sec will be looking around for a few hours."

"Yeah." I say quietly watching her leave. "Hey uh, wait."

She stops and looks back at me with a kind smile and for a second I just stare at her, stunned again.

"Uh are you going to come back?" I ask, a little bashful.

"I don't know." She says thinking. "Probably best if I leave the place. I'll come early in the morning though and see you out."

"Okay." I say, feeling a little relieved. "Goodnight… Thank you."

Why? Why do I feel relieved that she's going to come back? Why am I even asking that question? I know why I just don't want to say it because I cannot explain why it is I'm so helplessly in my head when I'm in this person's presence.

She smiles at me again and then leaves, closing the door behind her.

I sigh through my nose and lay down on the massage table with a groan and it's not long before I fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

 **Earlier…**

"You wanted to see me?" Zero Sagaeus asks as he approaches Garrus. "Got a call from dispatch?"

Garrus leans against his car and nods. "Yes… I wanted to ask you a couple of things Zero. Off the record."

Zero's brow furrows in either concern or confusion and Garrus hopes the former. "What do you mean Garrus?"

"Detective Vakarian." Garrus begins, setting the precedent for the rest of the conversation to establish a superiority over Zero. "Are you familiar with the case I've been working?"

"Not intimately." Zero replies, pausing for a second. "Detective."

"Been on the lookout for a serial murderer, Zero." Garrus says, opening his omni-tool and showing the picture of the suspect with Zero. "And I think you've seen the guy I want to know more about. I just want to know more about this guy Zero. Won't report you for falsifying your report."

Zero frowns at Garrus without looking at the photograph. "From what I know about your case, I don't know if 'serial murderer is an appropriate term.' His MO is more like a hitman's, and there are plenty of those to speak of on the Citadel. Why are you so hooked on this one that you're coming at me in the parking lot; asking me to call you 'Detective Vakarian' like we haven't known each other for years and like I'm your inferior or something?"

"Oh so you do know about my case? And hell it even sounds like you know the guy. Prove me wrong." Garrus scoffs and dodges the jab. "And I shouldn't have to remind you but you are my inferior, at least in term of rank. So answer the question officer."

Zero is quiet for a while before he stares at the picture and then looks Garrus in the eye, his face hard. "I don't know where this person is Garrus, or anything about him. Why are you so sure it's him?"

"Mm." Garrus says lowering his omni-tool. "Was afraid you were going to say that. Alright then, I'll just have to tell Chellick that thanks to you not cooperating I couldn't get anywhere."

"Since when are you partnering with Chellick?" Zero asks, incredulous. "Garrus, come on. I'm serious. I don't know anything. Yeah, I helped the guy but all I did was pull him out of the water and look the other way when I found out he didn't have any identification on him."

"Zero! Are you paying attention at all?" Garrus barks at him, getting a few looks from the other officers in the parking lot. "What you did was illegal, first of all. You're a cop. That's reason enough for you to be off the promotion board. I'm looking for this guy because he is our top suspect in killing _at least_ 3 people in the past _week._ If you had just done your job and brought him in, nobody would have been killed and furthermore the next time this happens you know full-well that refugees get amnesty regardless of how they got here!"

"Not humans!" Zero snaps back. "They don't get it! And who do they have to thank for that? Us! Turians! So what if I helped him! You said yourself he's a suspect! And you're not asking me where he is so it's obvious that you're just fishing for whatever you can get on this guy to arrest! But if you don't have that already I don't think you have any right to come up to me and accuse me of being complacent in these deaths Garrus!"

"After he stuck his neck out for you like he did, Chellick would be so disappointed in you Zero." Garrus says with a shake of his head. "I'm disappointed in you. You know I was the one who put your name forward for the candidacy? I thought you had actual potential. You and me are a lot alike, we both don't care too much for all the red tape that holds us back around here and we need more people like you and I in Investigations. But now I see that your ethics aren't about doing justice. You're lucky if you even get considered for detective after Chellick finds out about this Zero."

"You wouldn't Garrus." Zero says with a cautious tone. "Garrus you have no idea how long I've wanted this. This is my first and only chance. If Chellick backs out from sponsoring me, as the head of the promotion board, the rest are not going to look at me twice. You can't do this to me Garrus. Do you know how fucking hard it is for me here?! I need that promotion or I won't get a shred of respect! You have now idea how hard it is Garrus. You got your face tattooed. You belong somewhere. You didn't lose your dignity along with half your face like I did. You don't know what it's like to be mocked for putting on a uniform at all. People think that people who look like me aren't supposed to be cops. Fuck how I feel, do you know how that affects my career? Even the people I'm supposed to call my brothers can't see me as anything but half a cop and half a turian; all just because of the way I look. It's fucking bullshit and I can't change it. You can't do this to me Garrus this is all I've wanted for the last 6 years. I've worked so hard just to get to this point. I've been on my beat twice as long as you've even been on the force for fucks sake! You and I both know I earned my place on the promotion board Garrus."

"I know that." Garrus says firmly. "I voted for you. Chellick too. We think you're a good cop, no matter what you look like. But you doing this stuff isn't going to endear you to the board. You had to have known that when you helped this human out. They already see you as a human sympathizer Zero."

"So fucking what if I am! Why shouldn't I be? At least they don't fucking look at me with disgust when I walk by them. My own people, my own fucking peers treat me without dignity or respect, like shit everyday Garrus! Just because I'm barefaced!" Zero scowls at him. "No. You and everyone else are all the same. I've heard you talking behind my back, heard it all. I may have one mandible but I can still hear out of both ears Garrus. I shrugged off the shit you said about me, thinking you were just shooting shit with your friends. I get it. But if you think you can just… threaten me?! You're going to regret it."

"I'm not threatening you, Zero." Garrus says, calmly, firmly. "I'm giving you a chance to do the right thing and fix something you fucked up. We all don't get that chance so I suggest you take it. Whether I tell them or not, whether you get promoted or not, your attitude is the problem. Thinking everyone is fucking bigoted against you, always having this damn thorn in your side, so sensitive to even the slightest jab. It's naive to think that literally everyone is a bigot. Not just that, it's pathetic. You're just using it to excuse yourself from not being up to par with everyone else. _That_ is your problem. You think the entire fucking world is the problem, when in fact maybe it's just you. That attitude isn't just going to make you lose out at the promotion board. It's gonna get you fired someday, maybe even killed because you're careless on the street. That is, unless, you learn from this, right now, and help me catch this guy. What do you owe him anyway? Zero I'm one of the only people here who sticks up for you when the other guys make fun of you!"

Zero is quiet for a long time and looks angrily, pensively, off. "I know."

"So?" Garrus says with a shrug.

"I'll… I'll get a statement on your desk of what actually happened." Zero says quietly, looking at the ground. "But I don't know much and that's the truth."

"Alright, I believe you. Just give me anything you can." Garrus replies, with a kinder, well-practiced tone, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I need your help here Zero, that's all I'm asking."

"Sure... detective." He says before walking off.

Garrus sighs and rubs his eyes.

"He didn't look too happy." Garrus looks up at Chellick approaching, walking past Zero as he does. "Neither do you. Your little self-guided investigation into this guy going well?"

Garrus shrugs. "Yeah, so far it is."

"Good to hear cause it'll have to wait a few days." Chellick gets into Garrus's car. "We have to go."

Garrus, confused gets in and takes the car off into the air. "What do you mean? We didn't lose the case or get reassigned did we?"

Chellick shakes his head. "Nothing of the sort. It just needs to wait a little while. Few days at most. Big crime scene out on the Wards. Big gunfight between some mercs at a club called Eternity. No civilians hurt, but no witnesses to what happened inside either. Really strange business and Pallin requested us two on this one personally."

"What happened to having a few days to find out what I can about our perp?" Garrus asks dryly, trying to be both somewhat humorous and inquisitive at the same time and failing a bit at doing both.

"Gonna have to leave it for a couple days partner." Chellick replies just as dryly. "Don't worry though I asked a friend on the beat around Shin Akiba to check the apartment building out from time to time. This thing we're going to could be… problematic to say the least. From what Pallin told me it's serious."

"Coming from Pallin, serious-prime, it must be serious indeed." Garrus remarks, sarcastically.

Chellick chuckles. "Indeed it must be… How's Zero been?"

Garrus glances at him. "Fine, why do you ask?"

"Saw you two talking." Chellick replies absently. "Been a while since I've seen him and you two looked like you were having quite the conversation."

"He's… just concerned about the promotion board is all." Garrus replies.

Chellick nods slowly, knowingly. "Mm. What's he worried about? I'm on the promotion board. And I'm sponsoring his advancement."

"I know. He knows too." Garrus replies, looking out the window. "He's… worried is all."

"That kid." Chellick replies with a sigh. "So quick to think things revolve around the way he looks. C-Sec is like a family, we're brothers and sisters, all of us. The way he looks doesn't matter, I hope he knows that. It doesn't reflect on his work ethic."

"No, he's a good cop." Garrus says, and pauses for a second. "He's not a kid."

"Hm?" Chellick asks looking at Garrus.

Garrus looks at him. "He's older than me Chellick. You don't call me a kid."

"I'm older than both of you, kid." Chellick replies sarcastically.

Garrus is quiet for a bit. "I'm just saying I've only ever heard you call him kid, is all."

"Oh come on Garrus not you too." Chellick says with a groan. "He's barefaced. So what? When we wear the badge, we don't see face color or the lack thereof. What the hell did he say to you out there Garrus?"

"He's just concerned. The promotion board isn't just your decision or the other board members, who all happen to be turian need I remind you. The precinct votes too." Garrus says looking at Chellick. "And you don't hear what some of the guys say about him behind his back Chell."

"I seem to recall you saying something about him not being able to keep words, water or his tongue in his mouth." Chellick says musing. "Kind of fucked up on account of his disfigurement don't you think?"

Garrus rolls his eyes. "That was just a joke! Zero and I are friends!"

"Didn't seem like that when I saw you guys talking in the parking lot." Chellick mumbles looking out the window. "You might call yourself his friend but I hate to admit it but that kid doesn't have any real friends. Not for lack of tryin, mind you. The people who call themselves his friends are fake. They want him around to appear like better people. It's one sided. As soon as he needs something from you, you aren't going to do it for him because you just like the idea of being his friend, not the actual reality. You have the same bias everyone else does about people like him. You think you can just put that aside? Bullshit. But don't go pretending you're different. Because bottom line? You're right. His appearance makes people judge him outright. And people just don't let go of the deepset world views, yourself included… Look. Zero's promotion board is going to go fine. We're here."

Garrus steps out of the car and starts walking towards Eternity. The whole block is closed right now and a decent sized crowd has gathered outside the police lines. Garrus starts walking down the unnecessarily long hallway to Eternity and sees a group of CSIs gathered at the end of this stretch right before it turns sharply left.

Garrus sees Alex in the group of CSIs and nods to her, with a slight smile. Alex smiles back and approaches Chellick and Garrus.

"Hey guys." She says, pulling down the plastic hood of her CSI suit. "Come to see the carnage of the century?"

"Suppose so." Garrus replies walking around the corner but stopping as he looks at the literal carnage of the century.

Either side of the hall just as you round the corner are blown apart, the metal panels of the wall distended and scorched with a massive jagged hole in the center of each. And in the middle of all this are 7 corpses, either blown up by fragmentation or shot by what looks like a powerful firearm. They're all mercenary types from the looks of it.

Garrus kneels down and examines the bodies. "Fucking hell. It's like a warzone."

"Inside the club itself is worse." Alex says nonchalantly. "Don't bother though. It's just another 15 dead mercenaries."

"22 dead bodies on our hands." Chellick takes a heavy breath and rubs his hand over his fringe. "I need to transfer to customs enforcement or something and get away from all this insanity."

"One got away." Alex says with a shrug.

"Sorry?" Garrus asks, standing. "Is there surveillance?"

"Nope. All the cameras in the club and the hall have been down. The club announced closing up for the night really abruptly and cleared the place out. After that cameras were down. Management said they had a concern that there was a problem with their fire suppression and closed early. Anyways, one of them got away." Alex points at the bodies and then at the guns scattered around the room. "7 bodies, 8 guns."

"Hm." Chellick rubs his chin. "Good work Alex. Isn't it possible though that one of them had 2 guns though?"

Alex shrugs. "Well yeah, but call it a hunch. Besides who carries two assault rifles? All these guys have one but there's one extra. Trust me, one of them got away. There is a blood trail leading down the hall where you guys came from, after all."

Garrus shrugs. "I'm convinced. Alright, shall we go see the rest of the club Chellick…? Chellick?"

Garrus looks at Chellick who is fixated on his omni-tool.

"Chellick come on." Garrus says walking back over to him. "What the hell are you looking at?"

"Uh…" Chellick frowns deeply at his omni-tool. "Okay I think this is a _lot_ more serious than we initially thought."

"More serious than 22 dead bodies?" Alex remarks, looking sidelong at the 7 blown up corpses in the hall.

"Way more serious." Chellick says. "This just in from Pallin: _we have another crime scene and we believe it's involved with the one at Eternity. It also happens to be right outside my office. Another 6 dead mercs out here. And we just got some new information as well, regarding the Blue Suns and some very, very illegal genetic research. The Council is taking an emergency vote on whether to ban the Blue Suns corporation from Citadel Space entirely and it looks like all this has something to do with it. Get down here. Now. This crime scene is much more public so I need you all here immediately."_

"What the fuck?" Alex exclaims. "Dead mercenaries, Blue Suns, and another crime scene _outside_ Pallin's office?"

"Well, I'm sure it's not _right_ outside his office." Chellick says with a shrug and then he sighs heavily. "Garrus, I think this is going to take up more of our time than I initially thought. Alright, let's go! Everyone pack up! CSIs take your photos and process but uh… Alex pick a few to come with us. We have a _lot_ of work to do tonight."

"Wait! Chellick, Garrus look at this!" Alex exclaims with wide eyes as she looks at her omni-tool. "This is a surveillance capture of the block outside the club, it only takes a capture every 30 seconds so…"

She shows them the picture and Garrus and Chellick look at each other.

"Who the fuck is that?" Garrus asks with a frown looking back at the somewhat hazy image.

In the image, Garrus, Chellick, and Alex all see what looks like a mercenary just about to climb into a cab and he's staring straight at the camera. His face, or helmet rather, is a black metal skull with a blotch of white bone over one side of his face, the dark empty eye sockets glowing with pinpoint blue lights. He looks less like a merc and more like a demon.

Chellick sighs. "That's the guy we need to find."

* * *

 **From the Author:**

 **If you've come this far now, I hope it's been interesting to you. The response to this so far has been heartwarming to say the least and I'm touched by the support and the feedback.**

 **First, I want to say thank you for reading this new-old thing and accepting it as it is. Second, I want to say that I'm sorry for the frustration that this must be causing if you're a long-time fan. I am very sorry for two separate things: for being gone and silent for so long and for not continuing something unfinished but rather revising something already complete.**

 **For me it was never complete however. It was lacking, greatly, things that every story needs: voice, direction, depth, and originality. When I first started writing Massive Shock I was… 15? I'm now… much older than that and as a result I can see what the story has lacked all along. And why should I care how bad this thing I made at 15 years old is? Well, I feel connected to it. I created it. And I want to make it better. And I want to give that to you. I want to give you something special.**

 **I want to be a real writer, honestly.**

 **Time is short, however, for me. And patience short for you.**

 **So, here's my plan. These first 5 chapters are to show you what the rest of this story is going to be like. It's a Redux of Massive Shock 1, taking this thing I created and making it something more special than it ever was before or ever could have been when I first wrote it. My goal is to give you a meaningful and deep character driven story, with characters rich and unique and true to their inspirations from the Mass Effect games as well as true to what I envision them as. After these first 5 chapters, I will develop this story as much as I can though I cannot promise a consistent upload rate but I PROMISE you I will see it through to the end. I want to show myself that I can, as well. This story won't meet the original, chapter for chapter and certain chapters may not be redux-ed at all and some glossed over. I will include the things that I think are important to stay true to the narrative I originally created but as you can see (hopefully) what I'm trying to do is make the characters and events in the story ALL more meaningful, developed, interconnected, interesting and represent greater dimensions than they did originally.**

 **Following the completion of this story, I will take a break from it. But if it's received well, I'll continue Massive Shock 2 from where it left off.**

 **Until then, please enjoy what I have written. I will likely not say much from here, maybe a note of appreciation here or there, so if you'd like to reach me simply private message me and I'll see it on my email. Once again, thank you for reading and for being so, so, so patient with me. For that I can't thank you enough. Like it means so much to me that anyone would take the time to read what I have taken the time to produce. That's an absolute honor. To this day, I get favorites and follows and that's amazing to me that this thing I did when I was a kid still gets read by people.**

 **Now to address a few items:**

 **1\. Thanks for pointing out errors that may come up. I write these chapters usually in several sessions and then edit them over the course of a few weeks and things still fall through the woodwork. Your help is greatly appreciated, it makes me feel like I don't have to endeavor this totally by myself. That being said I'll still try to keep this story as error free as possible.**

 **2\. A multi-verse jump chain thing was an idea I tossed around when I initially wrote the story but I decided it would be too complicated/Mary Sue to have a character that could do like magic, have augmentations, plasmids, etc. At this point I may implement it later on but I want it to fit into greater things thematically as opposed to fan service. Haven't decided yet, still working out the kinks.**

 **3\. On that point the major reason this isn't a crossover series is because the bioshock stuff exists solely as a plot point to make the main character unique and because it utilizes no characters from the Bioshock universe. When I initially wrote this I wanted to do something different from the norm with self-inserts. That being said, this isn't written as a self-insert anymore. Your points are noted however and to absolve any confusions, the story will focus most on Mass Effect elements, lore, setting and characters going forward. In other words I'm going to spend a lot less time (no need to be so relieved) talking about how plasmids work and doing flashback cutaways to Rapture.**

 **4\. I have taken note of the fact that this story is a bit odd because it's written in present tense. I did that the first time around for two reasons: I wanted it to seem like a "this is happening now as you read it from the perspective of the main OC" sort of thing and because I read other stories such as Masses to Masses (to my recollection at least) which are written present tense. I think that was the norm back then for self inserts? Anyway I'm making excuses because I really did try and write past tense and found myself CONSTANTLY having to go back and fix stuff cause I'd just switch to present. I'm sorry if this mode of writing is confusing and atypical but I really do want to keep it as is because I've already started writing it this way, I wrote it that way the first time around, and because I think it fits the plot line as a "we're reading this from the persective of a person who is experiencing things concurrent with us," as opposed to a narrator telling a story. I really don't want this story to feel like someone is sitting there reading this off to you and more like you're there experiencing it alongside the main. Again, sorry if that causes confusion down the line but that's my goal. If it makes it hard to read and I get a lot of feedback encouraging switching to past tense I'll most likely make the switch down the line.**

 **Now, a special message for returning old fans of the series, I hope you're not disappointed in me for what I've chosen to do with this. I know you might have completely moved on from this and you might not even care I'm doing this or you might be mad at me for remaking something that was fine as it was or not continuing something that I left unfinished. Or maybe you don't even care and aren't even reading and I wouldn't blame you because this isn't and shouldn't be important to you. And I am very sorry for all those things.**

 **But to be honest with you, I'm doing this for me. I just hope you like it too.**

 **Thank you.**

 **~j**

 **P.S. if you're just tuning in, never read any of my stories before, this is a rewritten and hopefully improved version of a story I finished years ago. I hope it's worth the read for you. Thank you.**


	6. Rasa

**Mass Effect**

 **Massive Shock Redux**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Mass Effect or BioShock franchises or any characters or property that BioWare or 2K games has staked claim upon. Original Characters that I create may be used or distributed for use at my leisure.**

 **Ch. 6: Rasa**

 **2:15 PM January 24, 2182**

" _Thank you for tuning into Citadel News Now! My name is Victoria de la Cruz, let's get right on it. As with the last three weeks, the news that has everyone's eye is the Council's vote on private security corporations. As you may know, it was recently revealed that the Blue Suns, a controversial private security corporation who operate across the galaxy have been accused of conducting in extremely illegal genetic experimentation and research, the specifics of which are classified. In addition to this, according to recent C-Sec investigation reports, the shootout at the Eternity club on the Wards as well as the one near the Embassies on the Presidium were initiated by mercenaries working for the Blue Suns. C-Sec has redacted and withheld more information but despite the level of classification, the PSC has been charged with illegal genetic research, cruelty against sentient beings, endangerment of sentient lives, espionage, extortion, bribery, treasonous violence on the Citadel, treasonous endangerment of sentient lives, diplomatic terrorism, and unsanctioned experimentation on live sentient beings. In what has been criticized as an overreach of power, the Council has since voted in favor of banning all Blue Suns operation from Citadel Space. The Council affirms in an official statement, however, that the necessity for PSCs to operate within Citadel Space is still very prevalent and expresses that the actions of the Blue Suns does not represent the actions of other PSCs._

" _In other news, the investigation into the Eternity club shootout and the Embassies mercenary deaths are still underway. Citadel Security issued an official statement on the matter. Executor Pallin stated that, and I quote, 'C-Sec is devoting its full resources to discovering the cause behind this extremely rare display of violence on the Citadel. Our best are on it, to ensure that all the residents of the Citadel remain safe.' Pallin went on to say that the killings are believed to be related in some way to the Blue Suns being banned from the Citadel, as the mercenaries had ties with them. Many residents of the Citadel are posing on social media believing that the Blue Suns were attempting to eliminate some whistleblowers and that they did not succeed. What the investigation is hoping to achieve most of all is who exactly the mercenaries were fighting? Some credit the team responsible for fighting off the mercenary as heroes, protecting the embassies, others insist they were part of it all and are no heroes at all. Time will tell as the investigation continues._

" _To finish off our crime segment today, the search is still on for the Presidium Vampire, an individual responsible for the serial killings of several Citadel residents. Citadel Security has several detectives assigned to the case. Detective Decian Chellick, the case's lead detective, stated that 'he is devoting his full time and capability to catching this serial killer.' Detective Chellick's partner, Detective Garrus Vakarian added that 'they have several suspects lined up and outside contractors have been cleared to search for the extremely active killer as well.' I don't know about you folks, but extra hands on the case definitely make me feel better."_

I turn off my news broadcast streaming through my helmet's speakers using my omni-tool. I finish eating my breakfast and toss the trash into the can in the kitchen. This is a pretty… decent place I guess. At present, I'm in an apartment that I'm using to stake out my target. It's owner is a turian working for the embassies who barely makes enough to make rent, so it wasn't hard to bribe him to let me use his place for a few hours.

I put my helmet back on and return to the window, staring out at the warehouse where the suspect is supposed to be. That guy on the news, this so called Presidium Vampire is a serial killer. He's leaving people dead in their homes hung by their feet upside down with their throats cut open. This guy likes to completely exsanguinate people.

But what the police couldn't figure out is how he did that without getting a drop of blood in their houses. No blood in the bodies but no blood on the floor either. When they put out that open call to contractors to help with the investigation it was more or less just a "hey if you guys have any tips that would be awesome." But what fun is that?

So, they think that the killer is taking the blood and storing it. Like he drains them over a bucket or something. So they were looking through surveillance for hours after the crimes for somebody transferring a bucket or other large container that could contain blood. Nothing.

But what didn't add up to me when I was reading the police and detective reports were two things: time of death and surveillance footage. Cause their TOD lists them as having been killed at a certain hour, but surveillance records them leaving but not returning home. So I check really close at the footage and noticed that they leave, usually a few hours before the TOD, and don't reappear on surveillance going home. But later they're found dead in their homes. So what does that tell you?

Well they were killed somewhere else, exsanguinated there and then the bloodless corpses are transported home. How? Well I looked at surveillance for hours trying looking for someone coming with some sort of container large enough to transport a body. No luck. Until I looked closer that is.

The victims were pretty random, but they were all single, no family or cohabitants. And when I looked over police reports again, all their homes were unlocked when the bodies were found. And when I looked through surveillance carefully I found that at each of the buildings there was a delivery logged for the victims. Large package.

So then I started looking into couriers and delivery persons and found that there was the same delivery person on each of those runs to deliver the large packages. So what I think occurred is that the killer captures the victim, brings them to his kill spot of choice, exsanguinates them, and them ships them back to their homes. The killer brings the person into the apartment, poses them, and leaves without anybody thinking anything of it. I followed that lead and went to the courier company to find out who that delivery person is. One Arthur Pendosa, human, not much history on file but he's from Earth originally, grew up poor but struck it rich out of nowhere, with not much explanation.

I looked into him more and found he owns a small warehouse on the Wards and I've been keeping my eye on him since. I believe he has another victim lined up for today. Say what you will about him, but he's prolific. He works quickly, efficiently and leaves little behind to trace. It took me 3 weeks of digging just to find him here and since he's killed 2 people. Now he's about to kill his third victim in 3 weeks and his 11th overall. But that's what happens when they get overzealous right? They get sloppy and easier to find.

And as if on cue, there he is, carting a large metal crate on a hand truck into his warehouse. Better move quickly. If my research is right, it takes a long while to completely exsanguinate a person, unless he uses some pumping schema. But based on his timeline, from when the person leaves their home to when he returns them dead, I don't think he likes to waste any time. I rush out of the apartment and across the street to the warehouse entrance. Locked of course and it doesn't look like there's another way in.

I'm not too sure how these fancy mass effect warehouse doors work. At least in the first game you could just slap some omni-gel on a locked door and it'd open as if that makes any sense. I sigh and look around for another way in maybe, but see no way inside. I sigh again and place a quick call.

" _Heyyyyyy buddy!"_ I hear Vaga's voice reply on the other end of the call once he picks it up. _"What can I do for you my best friend!"_

"Are you drunk?" I ask with a frown. "It's 2 in the afternoon."

" _2:30!"_ Vaga snaps back. _"I assume you called for a reason other than just criticizing me?"_

"Yeah, I need to get into a warehouse door. It's locked and I need to hack through." I say, quietly. "And it's pretty urgent, like a life or death sort of scenario."

" _Hm. I might be able to hack it remotely. Or hang on, this might be more useful to you. Sending it your way. Accept it."_ Vaga says, sounding serious and on it.

I get an attachment to my omni-tool and accept it despite the fact that my omni-tool is vehemently telling me not to. And the second I do I'm met with a face full of porn on my armor's HUD and Vaga's wheezing laughter.

"Really?" I say with a sigh, closing the porn. "I said life or death didn't I?"

" _Yeah yeah, okay seriously here I'm not joking this time."_ Vaga says, still laughing.

I get another attachment and open it, much more reluctantly, but after a few seconds my omni-tool reboots and lets me know it's accepted a new modification.

" _There, think of it like hacking for dummies. It's idiot proof, just don't mess it up."_ Vaga says before hanging up the call.

I use the application he sent me to connect to the door and… Okay it's just the hacking mini-game from ME1 with the moving sliders. I'm through it less than 3 seconds. God… if you're listening, you are neither original, nor funny. Making the dumb mini-games from the game series my reality is practically insulting. Both to me and Shepard. Hacking for dummies? Am I supposed to believe now that Shepard is a dummy?

I sigh as the warehouse door opens and I walk in, shaking my head despondently. I get my game face on after a second however and start sneaking forward. The area I'm in is a large storage area with just this one level. The room is full of large square plastic containers, not unlike the ones you might see at an oil changing place. Actually just like those, seeing as how they're all filled with black liquid.

I'm not even going to bother checking, I know that those are filled with congealing blood. The smell of opening one of those might knock me out, so I move ahead instead, ignoring the blood containers. I sneak forward to a hall, at the end of which I can see a light coming from another room. And I hear light humming as well as some sobbing.

I sneak forward, not drawing any weapon because it's imperative that I take this guy alive but I do ready an Electro Bolt because this is giving me major bad vibes. My skin is tingling, the hair on the back of my neck is fully standing under my armor and I'm sweating profusely. I sneak up to the door and peek inside. Inside, I see very much a serial killer room. It's tiled, floor to ceiling with hoses attached to the walls. A lot like a butchering room I'd imagine. There are just a few metal tables with surgical tools and a large metal basin with a hook above it. The hand cart is near the basin with the crate lying open on top of it.

Pendosa, the Presidium Vampire, carries a person on his shoulder and hoists them onto the hook so that their bound legs hang from the hook by the rope and the person's head is near the basin's bottom. He does this in one smooth motion, practiced, no doubt. He hums to himself all the while.

And the victim sobs, but doesn't seem in control of their body. Drugged most likely. The victim is an asari, probable in her maiden stage.

"The color of your people's blood…" Pendosa starts as he selects a large hooked knife from his tray and begins to hone it like one would do before carving a roast. "Always enchanted me. The color, the smell, the taste. So unique, so intoxicating."

"Okay." I say kind of sarcastically, _entirely_ put off by this weirdo and without the patience to listen to his psychotic speech before he cuts this person's throat. I pop out from the door way and quickly zap him with a lightly powered Electro Bolt.

He spasms in place for a few seconds like a person who's just been tased, making ridiculous noises before he flops to the ground, groaning as his knife skitters away across the tiled floor.

"Oh thank the Goddess." The asari says, sobbing some more and sounding so utterly relieved. "You came to save me, thank the Goddess!"

"I mean…" I say, walking in and putting a pair of handcuffs on Pendosa. "Sort of? I mean don't get me wrong, I wasn't going to let him hurt you, hell no. But I did come here for him."

"I don't care…" She says crying uncontrollably. "Please get me out of here, I can't move! And my head is starting to hurt."

"Yeah hold on." I say, patting Pendosa down to make sure he's unarmed. After I'm sure he's not hiding any weapons… I mean really sure I was really, really thorough because we are not taking any chances with this guy. I pick him up to his feet and push him into the crate that he stored his victim in and I close it.

I then cut down the asari, being careful that she doesn't hit her head. "Listen, I have to… have a talk with him. But would you be a dear and call C-Sec and get them down here?"

I hand her a cheap omni-tool and start hand carting Pendosa away as he bangs on the lid of the crate, his screaming muffled and kind of comical. I push him down the street, getting a lot of looks from people as I do so.

"Where are you taking me?" I hear him ask, angrily, from inside the crate as I push him.

"We're not going far." I reply, keeping a brisk pace, turning heads as I walk. "But you have to behave or I'll zap you again."

I hear him start saying some expletives in another language in the crate as I continue on and into an elevator. I lean on the cart as it descends into the C-Sec headquarters on the Wards. After it reaches the bottom, I cart ahead to the receptionist, a uniformed turian who eyes me suspiciously.

"Err…" He says as I come up to him. "Can I… help you?"

"Yeah, I wanted to speak to Detectives Chellick and Vakarian? If they're here?" I say, producing a credit chit and putting it on the table along with all of my guns. "I have a delivery for them."

The receptionist looks over the desk at the large crate. "Is that a bomb?"

"Uh… No. Though I can see now why it appears that way." I say. "Look if it is a bomb it's in the building already and you guys have shit bomb detection technology and if it's not then it's not."

"Fair point." The receptionist shrugs and points down the hall to his right. "Down that way. I'll let them know you're coming. Please don't blow up the building."

I nod. "Sure. Just watch my stuff please."

 **Meanwhile…**

Chellick puffs on a cigarette as he looks at his terminal screen, intently, his feet kicked up on his desk. Garrus observes him, a little angrily.

"Chellick. Chellick. Chell." Garrus says, getting his attention. "What could be on that screen that's more important than our conversation right now."

"Oh. You don't want to know." Chellick replies.

"Can we focus?" Garrus says with an exasperated sigh. "We have so many cases on backlog _and_ that case Pallin wants us to focus on _and_ the case you promised me you'd let me focus on _and_ we haven't figured out what we're getting to eat yet."

At that moment, their shared telecom beeps with a message. Chellick presses the accept button.

 _"Detectives Chellick and Vakarian, just a heads up. Mercenary type heading your way with a 'delivery.' He's unarmed, seemed like he just wanted to talk."_ The message ends.

Chellick looks at Garrus with a frown. "That sounds sketchy."

"Yeah…" Garrus mumbles drawing his pistol from his desk drawer. "I have a bad feeling about this."

The door at the end of their department opens up and a large flatbed hand cart with a big crate on it gets pushed into the room. Behind it is none other than the guy that Chellick and Garrus have been looking everywhere for for the past 3 weeks. Chellick and Garrus both shoot to their feet and Garrus points his pistol at the mercenary with the skull helmet.

"Freeze!" Garrus shouts.

The merc immediately puts his hands up, albeit somewhat nonchalantly, allowing the cart to roll forwards towards Chellick and Garrus. Chellick stops it with his foot and approaches the mercenary with his pistol raised as well.

"I'm not armed." The mercenary says, his voice heavily modified by a voice changer to sound deep and distorted. The merc rotates his arms and does a quarter turn to show he's got no weapons on him. "Just came to chat and deliver a gift."

"Get on your knees." Garrus says, approaching slowly with Chellick. "You're under arrest."

"What for?" The merc asks with a shrug as he complies and gets on his knees. "Walking in here?"

Garrus continues to approach but Chellick holds his hand out to stop Garrus and then holsters his pistol.

Garrus looks at Chellick dumbfounded. "What are you doing? That's our guy!"

"He's right. We can't arrest him… yet." Chellick says with a hard frown. "Open the box."

Garrus frowns but carefully approaches the crate and cracks it open slowly. It then bursts open and a human man pops out, hands cuffed in front of him.

"Help! Help! I've been kidnapped!" The human cries, standing in the crate.

"Okay, now we can arrest him." Chellick says, approaching the mercenary again, this time with handcuffs.

"Come on!" The merc says with a laugh. "At least hear me out."

"You have a right to remain silent. You have a right to an attorney…" Chellick starts to say while Garrus helps the man out of the crate. Suddenly the human grabs Garrus and presses a small scalpel to the underside of Garrus's throat, his cuffed hands on either side of Garrus's neck, pulling him down.

"What the fuck where the _hell_ did you hide that?" The merc asks sounding disgusted as the human backs Garrus away from the merc and Chellick, who looks stunned and alarmed.

"Don't fucking move!" The human growls. "Or I swear I'll kill him."

"Shut up." The merc says, raising his hand. Suddenly a strange distortion around the merc's arm appears, like heatwaves wafting off a sidewalk on a summer's day. Suddenly the scalpel flies out of the human's hand and into the merc's. The merc drops the scalpel like it's a bug as soon as he catches it. "Ew! Gross."

Garrus does not wait, he easily uses his size and powerful turian legs to flip the human over his head and onto his back.

"What the _fuck_ is going on?!" Garrus shouts, grabbing the groaning human and turning him over onto his stomach.

"See? See what happens when you just get all gun happy and don't listen to people first?" The merc asks, getting to his feet. "That's Arthur Pendosa. He's the Presidium Vampire."

Chellick looks at the mercenary in shock. "Him?! You have proof?"

The mercenary hands over an omni-tool and a datapad. "That's his omni-tool, didn't go through it myself but he works as a courier for a company and has delivered suspiciously large packages to each of the Vampire's victims after their TODs but before their bodies were discovered. Details are in the dossier on that datapad. Oh. And he has a warehouse FULL of blood not 10 minutes from here on foot. And I saved an asari there just now. You guys should be responding to her call as we speak."

Chellick calls some officers to come and take Pendosa away. After he's gone, Chellick gestures to a chair next to his desk and sits down as does Garrus. The mercenary sits in the chair offered to him.

"What did you come to talk to us about?" Garrus asks after a moment of silence, suspiciously eyeing the mercenary.

"Catching one of the worst serial killers in the Citadel's history was a peace offering of sorts." The merc says. "Though I would like to collect a bounty on that. Anyway, what I'm really here to do is confess."

"Confess?" Chellick asks with a frown.

"Maybe not the right wording." The merc says. "Rather, inform. The Presidium embassies shootout and the Eternity shootout? That was me."

"You?" Garrus asks, incredulous. "You killed all those mercs? Alone?"

"Yes, but in self-defense! And in defense of another. See I found out about all that and went to stop them from killing a fellow who will remain anonymous for his safety. He was going to blow the whistle on the whole Blue Suns genetic research conspiracy. It was him in fact. I kept him from dying to ensure that he did that. And I did _not_ shoot first, as per the rules on my mercenary license." The merc presents his license to operate on the Citadel, listed under the name of Splicer. "So yeah, I just wanted to help you guys out. I know you've probably been tearing your… wait sorry human expression. I know you guys have probably been stressed out about this case. Well you guys can rest easy, I was the guy on the other end, just me, and I did everything legally. And helped expose the very illegal activity of a major corporation. And caught a serial killer."

Chellick looks at Garrus. Chellick then begins to laugh hysterically, while Garrus just looks at Chellick in stunned silence.

Chellick finishes his bout of uncontrolled laughter and looks at the merc. "What a good way to close out my retirement? Not one, but two cases closed in one day, without me having to do anything at all."

"Retirement?!" Garrus exclaims jumping to his feet. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

Chellick turns his computer screen to show him what he'd been looking at from before. "My transfer to customs got approved! Once you've been on the force as long as I have you'll get have some sway to get what you want too."

"What the fuck Chellick?" Garrus asks, hurt and confused. "We're partners! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm getting old Garrus." Chellick says with a shrug. "Besides I didn't think you'd take it that hard. I always felt like I was holding you back. Now, look! Nobody to tell you to follow the rules anymore!"

Garrus, unable to say anything else, storms off, leaving this Splicer and Chellick to toast to some damned cases being solved and his damned retirement together. Garrus goes into the main lobby, fuming. As he storms into the room, someone bumps into him, hard. Garrus looks up, angrily to see Zero looking back at him. The last time Garrus saw him, Zero had been dressed up in his blues, ready for his promotion board last week. Garrus had heard it went well and was expecting to see Zero in a detective's uniform, ready for his new job as an investigator for C-Sec. Garrus frowns at Zero's attire, his beat uniform, the same one all the beat cops wear.

Garrus looks at Zero, who just looks, furious and sad, and just shakes his head in confusion, not knowing what to say. In response, to Garrus's absolute shock, Zero spits on the floor at Garrus's feet and storms off without saying a word.

Garrus turns to see a trio of officers helping an asari along through the lobby, one carrying a bundle of rope in an evidence bag, and for a moment Garrus feels like he's give the power of foresight. He sees people worshipping this mercenary, this Splicer. He sees Chellick sitting behind a desk, enjoying some cigars he took from the search and seizure box. He sees Zero either walking the beat for the rest of his career or going off the deep end and doing something crazy. And he sees himself, tied up with red tape, standing alone against all the crime that the Citadel has to offer.

 **A Few Weeks Later…**

Garrus rubs his face, in part due to exhaustion and also in part to get his thoughts straight and wear out this frustration he's feeling. He sighs loudly before returning his attention to his paperwork. Since Chellick left to customs enforcement, the amount of paperwork he's had to do has increased exponentially.

In fact, Garrus can't actually remember having done any paperwork whatsoever prior to Chellick transferring. There wasn't a more synergistic partnership than theirs; Chellick being older and less spunky than Garrus had a preference for desk work. He was rather good at it too, and always had a contact or informant he could get in touch with to further his investigation. He wasn't ancient or anything either, but he often liked to boast about his storied career and make it seem like he was much older than he actually was. And because of his penchent to desk-work, Chellick liked to let Garrus take the lead on investigations, which suited him just fine. Garrus felt freer to pursue leads than he had before which was enticing, to say the least.

So Garrus isn't sure whether he misses Chellick right now, or hates him with a passion. Garrus sighs in frustration again, leaning back in his chair.

"You know, I'm more than willing to help you out with all that." Garrus hears from behind him.

Garrus swivels his chair around to face Alex Cisoto and gives her a tired, if not playful look. "I don't know if you could handle it."

"I may have failed the academy but I did quite well on the paperwork sims I'll have you know." Alex snaps back, looking smug, but also playful.

Garrus frowns. "There were paperwork _sims_?"

"Not like VR ones you dope." Alex says with a laugh, giving him a gentle shove. "How's your investigation going?"

"It's not an investigation, so much as it is an ongoing argument with Pallin." Garrus says with a sigh, getting back to business mentally. "It's going slow, let's put it that way."

"Sorry to hear that. Well I have a surprise for you." Alex says with a smile.

"A good one or a bad one?" Garrus says suspiciously. "I didn't do too well on the 'human facial expressions' quizzes in the academy so I can't tell if you're smiling because you're about to be nice to me or because you're about to be mean to me."

"I'm surprised you failed! You know this expression is a smile! And for your information, smiling indicates happiness which, true, may result from genuine joy from being kind to a friend or joy from pranking the shit out of you, among other things. Lucky for you, it is the former. I have…" Alex holds a case file out to Garrus that she was hiding behind her back. "A distraction for you! Pallin gave it to Chellick but Chellick actually asked me to give it to you."

Garrus grins, knowing full well that Chellick knew this is exactly what Garrus needs right now. He takes the case file and starts scrolling through, examining photographs and documents. "What'd he say about this one?"

"Well, Chellick said that there is a possibility Cerberus snuck onto the Citadel." Alex says. "I took the liberty of checking out security footage from the cams and I did see a good number of suspicious looking humans disembarking two days ago on the Wards. I went ahead and put in a facial recognition APB with Avina for each of them, but so far they've been popping up randomly around the Citadel. But they have each been sighted within 100 meters of a Cerberus stash house, according to one of Chellick's sources."

"Him and his sources." Garrus mumbles, quickly pouring through the case file. "Says here that omni-tool taps have them using unregistered OTs with encryption, typical. Were you able to decrypt any of it?"

"Yeah but bits of one message that was shared between all of them. They're using really heavy encryption, no surprise from a pro-human terrorist group. But they all referred to having a 'target' who I think they codenamed either 'Rasa' or 'Tango' since those two words were also mentioned between all of them. It's slow going but I'll get the full thing deciphered as they continue to communicate."

"'Target.' That's probably not good." Garrus says. "You have a solid location on any of them?"

"Not yet. They're all staying pretty mobile, oddly. Almost like they know we're watching, and they're waiting for something." Alex says. "But I did get in touch with Chellick's source. They're rated highly in terms of reliability and they reported that a C-Sec officer by the name of Harkin took a bribe to let the Cerberus Ops onto the Citadel."

"Oh, I know Harkin." Garrus says with a shake of his head. "Any idea where he is?"

"Already checked, he called in for his lunch break about 10 minutes ago, but I have his location tagged in a dive bar on Aroch." Alex says with a smirk, obviously proud of her initiative. "If you hurry, you might catch him there."

"You're the best." Garrus says, with a smile, getting up and hurrying out of the room.

"You're alright." Alex calls back.

 **Earlier…**

I snap awake from an intense nightmare, sitting up rapidly and hurling my bed sheets away from me. I'm drenched in sweat and checking the time, it's a few hours earlier than I normally wake. I take a few calming breaths and sit back, easing myself down for a moment. I only then notice an erratic icy blue-white light and realize I had activated Electro Bolt on instinct. Sometimes during adrenaline rushes, my plasmids go a bit haywire and activate themselves. It's a defense mechanism I developed in Rapture where being caught sleeping could mean dying. Of course, I learned pretty much instantly that I shouldn't sleep somewhere unfamiliar in Rapture, it wasn't long before I learned how to sleep in short light bursts, waking up every few minutes lucid enough to perceive my surroundings before falling back asleep instantly.

There weren't many opportunities for a full night's sleep down there. As such, I still haven't mastered that yet. Recently, I've been getting a lot of nightmares. Maybe it's the prolonged sleep periods, plunging me into REM, because I didn't really dream in Rapture. I sleep light though, so I usually quickly wake up during a nightmare. The last few days though have been particularly vivid, and for some reason I don't wake up right away. It's almost like I get stuck there, in the dream.

It's not always the same. Sometimes, I'm running for my life in Rapture, or nearly drowning or being tortured or something. Other times I'm just in ultimate pitch darkness and I feel like things are going to come out of the darkness and tear me apart beginning with my soul. And there's always this… unnerving noise in those dark dreams. Like a low pitch droning, not quite a humming like a swarm of hornets but more like one huge one, wings disturbing the air at a high frequency that causes like a constant disturbance deep in my ears and skull that is just outside of my hearing range but just enough that I can still feel it pressing against my eardrums and the back of my eyes. It's enough to put me on edge.

Not feeling remotely tired, I get up and take a fast shower to rinse myself off, hoping it'll make me feel tired again. I try to clear my head while I shower, focusing on more important things going forward.

Since that Pendosa thing and opening up about the Blue Suns thing, I've become pretty popular and well known round the Citadel as Splicer. So far, my actual appearance and my mercenary persona have remained separate and I plan to keep it that way for as long as I can. I try to keep my work sporadic so people don't know when to look for me. But there is no shortage of work, let me tell you.

Between the referrals I get from Vaga, Ram and even Nata sometimes, I have plenty to do to stay busy. On top of that, not only do private citizens come to me for help with their problems, but so does C-Sec. They sent out a literal pile of open investigations that they have open for contracting to me and I've already helped close three of them. Trivial, simple matters really, but I'm definitely endearing myself to Executor Pallin, among other people. Having people in positions of power like him in my network is undoubtedly beneficial to me. He's _definitely_ helping with my little Garrus problem. Garrus is as tenacious a detective as I remember him being in the games. It's been something like three or four times he's turned up places I'm at, not just as Splicer but also as myself. He seems to suspect that we are the same person, but doesn't have anything to back it up. Thankfully, I know Pallin is working to keep Garrus off my ass, for no reason other than Pallin thinks I'm helpful and Garrus doesn't, I think.

After I'm finished showering, I return to bed, feeling a little tired again. I try to go back to sleep, at least for a little while. Though I take a precaution to set an alarm to go off on repeat every 27 minutes so I don't sleep too heavily and to prevent more nightmares.

As I'm laying down, hair still wet and naked because, why not, I hear a distant doorbell chime. A wall panel in my bedroom lights up, displaying the time and alerting me that there is a caller at the door. My apartment VI, who isn't supposed to be named but I, nonetheless, call Chives, chimes up at a moderate volume.

" _Good morning, Sir. Sir, there is a caller at the door. A young human female. She has identified herself as a 'Hope Lilium.'"_ Chives says, the wall panel in my bedroom displaying the area outside of my front door. I get up from bed and walk over. A very attractive young woman stands outside of my apartment, in the middle of the night, wearing a tightly fitting dress and looking pretty agitated. She has blonde hair tied into a bun and thin framed glasses.

Frowning, I press the direct comm button and speak into it, keeping an eye on her to gauge her body language. "Can I help you? It's very late."

" _I know! I'm sorry, my name is Hope and your friend Nata told me to come here."_ She says, quickly and again sounding agitated. Mm. She's cute. Cute accent.

"Err… Why?" I ask with a frown. Pleeease don't tell me Nata told this person who I was. I _literally_ was _just_ musing about how I've been pretty capable of keeping my identities separate.

" _She told me you could help me?"_ Hope says with a nervous look around the apartment hallway. _"That this is your base or something?"_

"Who _exactly_ did she say you could find here?" I ask, rubbing my eyes.

" _Splicer?"_ Hope whispers into the door.

I groan. "Hold on. Give me a few minutes."

" _Would it be possible to come inside right now?"_ Hope asks, quickly, again sounding nervous and agitated. _"I think I'm being followed."_

Dammit. I mean… if Nata told her that Splicer lives here, and my fucking alias name is printed on the apartment listing in the lobby, then it doesn't really matter if she sees me, right? With a quiet groan, I press the door unlock and she rushes inside.

I put on some sweat pants and a shirt and step out into the main room of the apartment to greet her.

She turns to face me and looks, somewhat bewildered but also oddly pleased. "You're human."

"Yes." I say, frowning.

"I don't know why but I figured batarian. When I saw the armor, I mean." She says with a shrug.

"See, I felt like that would have been a good guise, but putting four eyes on the armor seemed impractical." I say, crossing my arms.

She chuckles nervously. "Uh, yeah."

"Okay, so, if you're here now and Nata told you specifically where you could find me, you _must_ have something important and urgent for me to do. You said you were worried you were being followed?" I say, still crossing my arms and leaning against the wall.

"Yes, so, I'll be totally, completely honest, okay?" Hope says, looking nervous. "A couple of years ago, I got married to this older man, rich, on Earth...

Though she looks pretty young to be married to me, I decide that it's not really my business nor position to judge.

"Anyway, at first when we met things were fine and I really loved him. Then, after we got married, I don't know. Everything just… shifted. He became cruel, controlling and violent. I was afraid of him and I felt in my heart that if I told him I wanted to leave him, he'd kill me." She starts to get emotional and takes a moment to calm down. "So… I left, without telling him. I got on the first transport out and went out to Horizon to get work at the colony. But within a year he'd found me, and then when I ran again it was even less time before he'd found me again. I came to the Citadel a few months ago and already he's found me… And he brought six mercenaries with him. I've been awake for almost two days now, just always moving, hoping they don't catch up with me but I think they're following me and waiting until they have the chance to strike." Hope looks worried and afraid, and looks at me, desperately.

I try to be professional, for pretty much anything and not give anything away but this dude sounds awful. "Six mercenaries, just for one person? What exactly do you think he's going to do?"

"I honestly think he wants to kill me." Hope replies, looking me in the eye.

"Hm. Why not go to C-Sec?" I ask with a dismissive shrug, trying to seem aloof.

"Well, I did, but they said that they can't act on suspicions. Regardless, they checked them out and they're all here legally, paid their dues, and they said there's nothing to support that claim that I'm being followed… I don't know… maybe I'm just tired but I'm sure they're following me, and I'm sure that my ex-husband wants to kill me." Hope says, distraught.

"Okay, so what, exactly, do you want me to do with your husband and his six mercenaries?" I ask, giving her a firm look.

"Whatever you have to do to ensure he never bothers me again." Hope replies, confidently.

After a bit of silence, I shrug. "Okay, sure. I'll take care of it. Where can I find him?"

"I'm honestly not sure." Hope says with a timid frown. "Though I have a picture of him and I snapped a picture of the mercenary I think is following me and works for him."

I shrug. "Should be enough. Okay, do you want to wait here or…?"

"W-What do you mean?" She asks, glancing about.

I shrug. "Shouldn't take long, couple hours at most."

She gives me a dubious look but shrugs. "Uh, I don't know. Probably best if I stay on the move for now. I'll go to a friend's maybe, just call me when you're done."

I nod, taking down her OT number. "Okay, so you mentioned one of them was following you?"

Hope nods. "I think so."

"Okay, do you mind waiting a few minutes?" I ask.

She shakes her head.

"Good, I'll be right back." I head into the other bedroom of the apartment where I keep my armor and weapons. I quickly don my armor and arm myself. I give myself a quick hit of EVE to bring up my energy levels before heading back out. Hope gives me an appraising look before giving me a wry look.

"I'm bait?" She asks.

"Yeah kind of. But you won't even know it." I say, my voice changer doing its job.

She nods. "Okay, well I'll go."

I nod. "I'll let you know when I'm done."

Hope leaves and I wait a few moments, grabbing a snack from the fridge before I leave as well. I usually leave out of a maintenance tunnel the leads a few hundred yards away from the apartment building so people don't know I live here, but I leave out of the front door this time. It shouldn't matter since it's early and I need to see if I can spot that merc following Hope. I take a quick look around the street, spotting Hope heading quickly down the street towards one of the public trams that goes up and down the Wards. It's not hard to spot a human man look at her, wait a few seconds and then push himself off the wall he was leaning on and follow her. He's tall, tough looking and has a curtain of dark hair hanging in his face. I check the picture that Hope sent me of her ex-husband and the merc she said might be following her. The merc definitely checks out as this guy. I quickly head after them, following at a distance so the merc doesn't notice me. Eventually, I see a chance and quickly rush up to him from behind, dragging him into an alley.

Tackling him into the alley, I fall on top of him and he grunts but quickly takes control of my right arm with one hand and elbows me in the face, aimed perfectly at my brow ridge. It didn't hurt because of the armor but my face snaps back from the force. Now that he has a few more inches of space he leans up and pushes against my torso and forces his leg up between my legs. He then uses leverage to pin my torso at an awkward angle and draws a pistol from his jacket, holding it with one hand close to his chest to make it difficult to disarm, his other arm locked straight to keep me at a distance.

Geez this guy is pretty good. He doesn't spare a second, pulling the trigger twice before I can react, putting two rounds into my chest.

I quickly get my arm inside of the crook of his straight arm keeping me away and I hit it to buckle it. I fall down, pressing the pistol flat and quickly rise again to knock his pistol aside. He keeps his grip and fires off two wild shots, the first round breaking my shield and the second piercing my shoulder and ripping out the back. I grunt in pain, absolutely surprised that his pistol is that powerful. I use our awkward positioning, where he's trapping my body sideways between his legs and grab his gun hand with the one hand that I can grab him with. I pull his hand behind my back and he bends his torso with it to keep his pistol close to him. That's smart but also what I wanted him to do.

I grunt, pivot my hips and roll so that I roll over his back and head while still holding him. Once we've completely rolled, my feet kicking up through the air, I pivot again and drop my weight, allowing me to finish in a squatting position. I quickly get to my feet, at the same time cleaning the merc who's still clinging to my arm and torso, thankful that my armor augments my strength cause that would have been difficult to do without it. I twist my legs, switch my stance and trap his leg between my legs and then kneel as quickly as I can. The force of it coupled with my weight and the leverage provided by my other leg cause his leg to dislocate. He grunts in pain and then starts to groan. His grip loosens and I quickly pull his arm back around my body and shove him off of me, face down to the ground.

I quickly kick his pistol out of his hands. I then stomp on his right hand, breaking several bones, draw my revolver-like handgun and point it at his face.

He flops on the ground like a fish pulled onto a boat and looks up at me, eyes glassy from pain, but not screaming.

"You're going to help me." I say, aiming my sidearm at the merc's head. "You're a merc right?"

After a beat, he nods, sweating.

"You're getting paid a lot for this, I bet. So, I have a counter offer for you. You're going to call your boss and whoever else is working for him and tell them that your target is going to be at the Tayseri Point Hotel and you're enroute to make sure she doesn't leave. You're going to convince them all to go there. Then, I'm going to tap your OT and you'll go there and wait for your team and I'll kill all of them, except for you, if you cooperate." I say, squatting and grabbing his ankle. "Got it?"

"Yeah." He mumbles, sweat beading his face, cradling his hand.

I yank his ankle, hard, setting his knee with a loud snap. He grunts but stifles it quickly and I nod. "Good. Go ahead. If you cooperate, I'll even pay you."

The merc nods and opens his OT, typing into it. He gives me access to it and then holds his good hand up to his ear. "Boss? It's Sin. I'm still on the target's tail, as instructed. She took a call from a friend, knows we're here and looking for her. She said she's going to go to Tayseri Point Hotel to hide out. I'm following her there. I'll make sure she doesn't leave."

I listen in from my end as the merc's boss, Hope's ex-husband, responds. _"Perfect. For us at least. Stupid of her but perfect for us. Good work, we'll see you there. Do you know what room?"_

He looks at me and I shake my head. "No, but I'll find out."

" _Alright, let me know. Out."_

I help the merc up and nod for him to go. "I'll be close. No funny business."

He just nods.

He heads off, still cradling his hand and towards a cab terminal. I follow close, holstering my gun, and get in the cab with him which takes off for Tayseri Point Hotel. We don't say anything on the way, at least not for a while.

"You're Splicer?" He asks.

I nod.

"Who were you hired to kill?" The merc asks, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

I look at him. "All of you. But I'm feeling generous today, maybe."

He doesn't respond or give away any reaction, but he is sweating a lot, likely from pain in his hand and knee.

"It's more subtle to be in plainclothes, but stupid." I say. "Made it easier to hurt you. I might not have been able to gain the upper hand if I didn't have armor or if you did."

"Wasn't my decision." He replies after a beat.

We arrive at the hotel and step out. I tell this merc, Sin, to go into the bathroom in the lobby, to wait there and not leave until I tell him he can, and to tell his team that the target is in room 815. I enter the lobby with Sin who goes straight to the bathroom and walk up to the receptionist. When she sees me, she immediately speaks into her omni-tool and walks away. A few minutes later, another employee in better clothes walks up to the desk.

"Hello sir, checking in?" The hotel manager asks.

I nod. "Yes."

"Very good sir, your room is room 815, here is your key. Who's name will this be under?" The hotel manager asks.

"Hope Lilium." I say.

"Very good, sir." The hotel manager smiles and holds a hand out.

I put a credit chit containing 3,500 credits in it. "Little extra there for extra privacy."

"Noted, we'll make sure you have a restful stay sir." The hotel manager says with a smile.

I walk away from the desk and to the elevator. And ride it up to the top floor, the 8th floor. It wasn't difficult to find hotels like these thanks to Vaga. He has a lot of connections and making those connections your own is important. I have a good working relationship with this hotel, among others, thanks to Vaga.

Once the elevator stops I walk straight to room 815. Room 815 is actually a room under construction. It's a double suite, intended for extended stays so there'll be a kitchenette, large bathroom, a living room and a large bedroom. At present though, the suite looks more or less a skeleton of what it will be. Panels on the walls are removed and piled up in a corner, wiring exposed. Plastic sheets cover the floor and parts of the walls including the window. The only furniture to speak of in here is a foldable metal chair, probably used by contractors during their meal breaks. All in all, it's a perfect space to commit murders in. My deal with the hotel more or less is to use this room for whatever it is that I need, no questions asked. Their only stipulation is that if I make a mess, I make sure it gets cleaned up. Generously, they leave a large roll of more plastic sheeting in the corner, several hundred feet.

I drag the folding chair off to the bedroom, setting it in the middle of the room, facing the door. I then plant a flashbang on either side of the door to the bedroom and I sit down and wait for the mercs to come.

 **Meanwhile…**

Garrus pushes Harkin, hard, into the bar's storage room. Harkin crashes against a shelf, slamming into it so hard it rebounds noisily against the wall behind it and falls to the side over Harkin, who shields himself from boxes and bottles falling onto him and smashing on the floor around him, bellowing the whole time.

Garrus shuts the door behind him. "Last time you were suspended it was for roughing up a suspect of an armed robbery who was already in custody, right? Didn't the charges against him get dropped after that? And the department settled the lawsuit he filed against us, didn't he?"

"He confessed didn't he?" Harkin grumbles, slurring his speech in part due to his inebriation and also in part due to the concussion Garrus just gave him. "Besides, he had it coming."

"You know, I actually really like your logic there Harkin." Garrus says, cracking his knuckles, and approaching Harkin. "Because, when I'm done with you, you're _definitely_ going to confess everything you know. And you sure as _hell_ have it coming."

"Hey! Wait!" Harkin barks, grabbing the front of Garrus' armor as he looms over him "Don't-"

Garrus interrupts him, slamming his palm into Harkin's throat, his large turian hand easily wrapping around it, squeezing until Harkin's eyes bulge, his jaw setting forward forcing his mouth open, foamy slobber forming at the corners of his mouth and his tongue sticking straight out of his mouth between his teeth, straight, tense and quivering madly like a bloated worm. A pathetic, throaty, wet squeal is the only sound Harkin possibly make.

"'Wait?' Why the fuck should I? You're goddamn pathetic. You're a damn disgrace to C-Sec. Hell, you're a disgrace to the human species. I'd be doing the whole fucking galaxy a favor if I squeezed until your head popped like the fucking abscess you are." Garrus squeezes a bit harder, and then lets go completely. "But I won't, not yet at least though spirits know I want to."

Harkin wheezes, slimy drool pouring out of his lips as he coughs out some blood, gasping for air. "Fuck! You fucking psycho!"

"Shut up. You're going to speak when spoken to, only to answer the questions I ask. If you don't I'm going to hurt you. Not bad enough to get you off the beat, no, you'd enjoy that. Just enough to make sure you're feeling it for the next few weeks. Or… if you piss me off enough? I'll make sure you feel it for the rest of your sorry life." Garrus growls, squatting down to face Harkin eye-to-eye. "Now listen. You took a bribe yesterday when you were assigned to customs. You let a group of Cerberus operatives onto the Citadel. Where are they?"

"Not… all… Cerberus…" Harkin groans, spitting out globs of saliva.

"What?" Garrus asks, frowning.

"I don't… I don't know where they are." Harkin says, gulping and sitting back against the wall, about as far away from Garrus as he can get at the moment. 'But they… They weren't all Cerberus. I know who you're talking about. One of them, just one of them was Cerberus."

"Which one?" Garrus asks. "What about the rest?"

"A woman, pretty as hell, she came and told me she was Cerberus." Harkin says, panting. "Paid me a lot to let in an incoming group of mercenaries, Blue Suns. She said they 'wouldn't be on the Citadel for long.' She said to tell them that 'their employer paid their way in.'"

"What did she mean? Why were they there?" Garrus asks. "And what was her name?"

Harkin shrugs. "Don't know what she meant, or why they were there. No name either. Didn't ask. Took the money. Let her in and later that day the mercs showed up. Told them I'd let them through and told them what the woman wanted me to say. I said, 'your employer paid for your ticket in.' They asked me where I could find someone. Offered to pay me for the information."

"Who?" Garrus asks, frowning.

"Someone named Hope. Hope Lilium." Harkin says, coughing a bit. "I didn't know anybody by that name. I looked her up for them. Told them where she lived."

"What the fuck." Garrus growls, backhanding Harkin. "You know you probably helped them kill her right? You're a fucking accomplice to murder."

"They didn't find her!" Harkin barks back at him. "She wasn't there! I know cause they came back to me, asking how to find her. I didn't help them anymore! I swear!"

Garrus gives a hard sigh. "What else?"

"That's all I know!" Harkin sneers at Garrus. "Now get the fuck off me and get out of here! What? You think you're better than me that you can treat me like this? Fuck you! We're the same?"

"I am better than you, Harkin." Garrus says with a frown. He looks around and spots a large ice machine. Garrus hits Harkin again, and pins him to the ground face-down. He fishes through Harkin's pockets until he finds a credit chit, its reader showing a large sum of money.

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!" Harkin barks.

"Confiscating illegally acquired funds." Garrus responds, digging his knee hard into Harkin's lower back. "This what they paid you?"

Harkin groans in pain. "Yeah!"

"All of it?" Garrus asks, grinding his knee down harder.

"Y-Yes!" Harkin groans. "That's all of it! I swear! I couldn't put it in my account right away so I kept the chit! I swear!"

Garrus gets up and drags Harkin to his feet by the back of his collar. He drags him over to the ice machine and opens the lid, seeing it's half full at the moment. Garrus pushes Harkin hard, forcing him to tumble into the bin of the machine onto a bed of ice cubes. Garrus quickly takes a flashbang off his belt, activates it, and tosses it into the machine, slamming the lid shut just as Harkin regains his bearing and screams in protest.

Garrus holds the lid shut, putting his weight against it and types into the machine's console to lock the lid and sets it to max output for ice, all the while Harkin bangs against the lid and screams madly.

A few seconds later a muffled yet still quite loud pop can be heard and Harkin no longer screams. Garrus walks back into the bar and hands the credit chit he took off Harkin to the bartender.

"For the damages and the broken ice machine. Anything extra, consider a tip." Garrus says. "And don't let that son of a bitch drink here anymore, if you don't want any problems from us."

The bartender just nods, putting the chit into his pocket.

Garrus walks out onto the street and calls Alex from his OT. "Alex, I need your help again."

" _Surprise, surprise."_ Alex responds. _"Go ahead."_

"Need you to get a location on a Hope Lilium. She's being targeted by the mercs we're looking for." Garrus says into his OT.

" _Hope_ Lilium _. Okay got it. She's a graphic designer, lives on Aroch. Facial recognition APB is running through Avina right now… Okay, got her. She's at Tayseri Point Hotel. Don't know what room but facial recognition has her tagged as entering the hotel but hasn't left yet… Oh shit. Garrus I just checked the live security feeds for the taxi stop nearby. There's a group of 6 tough looking guys just got off and are heading for the hotel."_ Alex says, either nervously or excitedly. " _Checking the APB on the merc's we're looking for... yeah that's them!"_

"Shit! Okay! I'm going!" Garrus says, already running back to his car. He leaps in and turns on his lights, sending his car screaming up into the air and towards Tayseri Point Hotel. He drives about as fast as he can through the air, piloting and swerving the car around other cars at extreme speed. It's not long before he gets to the hotel, but too long for his comfort. About 6 minutes since he took off. In a situation like this, where a group of mercs is targeting a person, every minute makes a difference in their life.

Garrus lands the car near the hotel entrance, blasting his sirens to clear a landing area for himself. Before it's even completely landed, Garrus is opening the door and hopping out, his heart pounding. He sprints into the lobby, which appears business as usual. He runs to the receptionist who looks at him, alarmed.

"Hope Lilium. I need you to tell me the room of Hope Lilium, now!" Garrus says to her, trying to sound urgent and serious without being aggressive, simultaneously showing his C-Sec identification from his OT.

The receptionist looks nervous and alarmed nonetheless. "Sorry sir but we have a strict non-disclosure policy-"

"Dammit! A woman's life is on the line! Tell me, now!" Garrus barks at her, losing his patience.

"Maybe I should get my manager-"

"There is no goddamn time! Hope Lilium! I need her room now! By the spirits if she is dead, I will arrest you as an accessory." Garrus shouts, practically spitting on her face.

"Okay!" The receptionist says, loudly and nervously. "Room 815!"

Garrus immediately sprints to the elevator. He rides it up to the eighth floor and sprints towards room 815, following the signs, his pistol tight in his grip. He spots the room from a distance away, its door is open. He runs up to it, getting into cover next to the doorway. Taking a deep breath, he steps away and pies the doorway, carefully crossing to the other side. Seeing that the room seems to be under construction and unfurnished, Garrus's danger alarm bells start going off even more than they were before. Something is off…

But a civilian's life is on the line and that takes precedent over his own safety. Garrus takes another deep breath and enters the hotel room, clearing each of this room's corners. This hotel room actually appears to be a multi-room suite. This room that he's in has a counter that appears to be part of a kitchenette in construction and a large window across from the entrance door. There is a door to his left as well and from the doorway is a large amount of blood spray stretching into this room across the plastic sheeting that covers the floor.

Gritting his teeth, Garrus moves as quickly and quietly as he can to the doorway of the room to his left, treading carefully over the plastic so as not to make it cause any noise from his footsteps. Once pressed up against the wall, Garrus peers through the doorway into the room which appears to be the main bedroom of the suite.

Garrus sees a lone black armored mercenary looming over a corpse. He's rolling it up in a plastic sheet from a large roll nearby, grunting as he turns the body over and over to get it into the sheet. In addition to the body he's rolling up, Garrus counts 5 more dead bodies, three human, one turian and one asari.

"God batarians are dense." The black armored merc mumbles under his breath as he continues to roll the merc up, grunting each time he flips the merc over.

The black armored merc doesn't know Garrus is there yet, so Garrus takes a quick scan of the bedroom to ensure the black armored merc is alone before he raises his pistol and steps into the room.

"C-Sec!" Garrus shouts, loudly and firmly. "Do not move! Put your hands up where I can see them, now!"

The merc freezes halfway through rolling the dead body. He lets the body drop before slowly raising his hands and slowly rising to his feet.

"Listen… This is just a huge misunderstanding." The merc says, with a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

"Turn around, slowly." Garrus says, keeping his weapon level and steady.

The merc slowly turns around and Garrus instantly recognizes his now iconic helmet. "Splicer."

"Oh my fucking god." Splicer says laughing. "Are you the only C-Sec officer at C-sec or something? What kind of a coincidence is this? Just my freaking luck. Seriously it's like _anytime_ I'm doing something it's you who represents my C-Sec troubles."

"Shut up." Garrus says, firmly. "Keep your hands up, don't move. You are under arrest for murder and conspiracy to commit murder."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on, Garrus." Splicer says, backing up a step. "I killed these guys in self defense they were here to kill a woman and I was hired to defend her, I swear."

"I'd advise you to stay quiet. Anything you say will be used against you in court. Save it for your lawyer." Garrus says, approaching Splicer slowly, weapon still raised.

"Hey, come on, you aren't really going to arr-" Splicer suddenly stops, leans over to the side a bit as if he's peering over Garrus' shoulder. "Uh… oh. Oh no way. Oh shit. Dude. Behind you."

"I said shut up!" Garrus barks at him, approaching more quickly.

"No! Seriously!" Splicer says. "Behind you!"

"You're under arr-" Garrus is suddenly interrupted as a searing, blinding pain hits him in the back and courses through his body. His body seizes up and he collapses to the side, twitching and barely conscious.

"Oh, shit! No, no, no, no!" Splicer says, drawing his pistol and pointing it at someone behind Garrus. He can't turn his head to see who it is, only sees Splicer. Garrus's vision is rapidly darkening. It's taking everything he has just to stay conscious right now. "Did you fucking kill him? I'll fucking kill you!"

"He's fine. Just unconscious. Don't need the attention associated with killing a C-Sec detective. Besides we have orders to minimize collateral damage." Garrus hears a woman's voice say. She has an accent that Garrus isn't familiar with. Not that he's well-learned in human accents.

"Why are you here?" Splicer asks, keeping his weapon pointed.

"You say that as if you know who I am." The woman responds, quizzically. "Do you?"

"N-No." Splicer responds, quickly, his weapon lowering a bit. "What is going on?"

"Just a test of ability." The woman says again. "Needed to see if you were everything they're saying you are. You need to come with me now."

"No." Splicer says, raising his gun a bit.

Garrus is on the verge of blacking out, before he does, he hears another woman with a different accent speak.

"Sorry, you have to. We have your friend."

Splicer is still and silent for a beat before lowering and holstering his gun. A human woman steps into Garrus' darkening view. She's wearing a tightly fitting black and yellow jumpsuit with long blonde hair and olive skin. Garrus watches as she handcuffs Splicer, and another human woman steps into view wearing an equally tight fitting white and black jumpsuit. Garrus blacks out before he can see anything else about her.

 **Later…**

I sit in a shuttle, with my hands handcuffed in front of me. My weapons were all taken by the heavily armored Cerberus operative that received us in the shuttle, but my armor is still on including my helmet. They weren't able to take it off thanks to Tyrannax's security measures and I can't take it off while handcuffed, though I wouldn't want to.

"I hope this was worth blowing your cover." Miranda Lawson says, sitting across from me in the shuttle.

"It will be. Besides, my cover isn't blown. Nobody saw me except for him." Hope Lilium says, sitting next to Miranda. "And he's not going to have the ability to blow my cover."

"Fair enough." Miranda says, legs crossed and eyeing me like someone appraises a new car they're thinking of buying. "Though it's be best to let the Illusive Man decide if you need additional measures to maintain your cover."

"Thanks for your assist on this one." Hope says to Miranda after a short pause.

"Again, it better be worth it." Miranda says. "This is your pet project."

"In contribution to your more important project." Hope says. "It will be. If what I've seen can be verified, this one isn't normal."

"Are you sure he's even human?" Miranda scoffs. "Could just be a big asari?"

"Excuse you." I respond.

The Cerberus op who took my guns butts me on the side of the head with his assault rifle. It doesn't hurt but it jerks my head to the side a bit. I turn my head and look at him. He prepares another rifle butt but Miranda holds up a hand to stop him.

"That won't be necessary. He will be cooperating completely." She says, lowering her hand. "Won't you, Splicer?"

"Mm-hm." I say with a sigh. "I mean I don't have much choice considering you kidnapped Nata."

"Indeed." Miranda says, with a cold smile.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Sorry for the delay on these chapters. I've been busy with finals and I'm partly into a challenging summer session. But the story continues. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. More to come as soon as I can.**

 **~J**


	7. Search

**Mass Effect**

 **Massive Shock Redux**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Mass Effect or BioShock franchises or any characters or property that BioWare or 2K games has staked claim upon. Original Characters that I create may be used or distributed for use at my leisure.**

 **Ch. 7: Search**

 **4:27 AM March 03, 2182**

Being strapped to a chair, I contemplate my life decisions. Can't say there is much that I wholeheartedly regret, aside from going to museums on my birthday and eating that fuzzy thing in Rapture that turned out to be a years old moldy cabbage. Though I am definitely regretting taking that job yesterday. I mean, it should have been obvious though in retrospect they did do a good job of leaving a bulletproof cover story as well as leading me where they wanted me to go. I've been thinking it over quite a bit. I should have been suspicious of a stranger telling me 'my friend sent her' without verifying that. However, it was very early in the morning when she made contact with me so I wasn't inclined to call Nata. Moreover, she made it seem like her situation was direly urgent so that was what I was focused on.

Further, and greater of them all: Hope was a very attractive woman, played the damsel in distress well, and they used that against me. As a professional mercenary, that shouldn't have worked as well as it did. But it did. Such is the folly and the weakness of the cisgender, heterosexual human male. In general I think I can say with decent confidence that this is true of most men, myself included at present.

You're probably thinking that I, being aware of this obvious weakness, would know better. Look, I promise I'll try not to let that get the better of me in the future. But in my defense, I did spend the better part of the late stages of my pubescent development (arguably the horniest stages) isolated in an underwater dystopia; a dystopia populated entirely by slugs, 'big daddies,' vampiric adolescents, and mutant blob people. And though some might be excited at the prospect of a city full of strong, silent-type 'big daddies' clad all in latex to entertain, a straight virgin such as I was not so keen on such experimentation in Rapture. As such, I think that my horniness (to put it bluntly) and glaring weakness to it can justifiably be excused. This time. To be perfectly honest, I don't think I stood half a chance against Hope. I was very eager to help her, very eager to show off. Under greater scrutiny, I'm sure if she asked I would have waived my fee under a guise of being charitable and benevolent; when in reality I would have been pining for attention and trying to get her to feel she owed something to me, as men often do to women... man I really need to check myself and at least TRY to grow as a person. I swear a solemn promise to at least try and do this. Hopefully going forward this won't be a glaringly obvious and tropey character flaw.

Once here it didn't take much coercion to get me to remove my armor. Just some midweight threatening in regards to Nata.

Anyway, so yeah. I'm currently strapped to a chair, wearing a sort of prisoner's jumpsuit except it's, you know… Mass-Effect-y. So it's overly snug and has a lot of unnecessary straps to accentuate and tighten my clothes to the wrong parts of my body. A guard did roll up my sleeves a while ago before he left me here, so that was nice I guess. I've been here for… Maybe six hours or so? I think we're on a space station somewhere, though I can't be one hundred percent sure about that. I also think Nata is somewhere on the same station, just based on context from Miranda's conversation with Hope. However, again I'm not positive about that; I acknowledge that it's possible that Miranda was intentionally talking to Hope about Nata, implanting hints that she's here on the station to throw me off. On second thought, I'm almost positive she did do that. Say what you will about Miranda Lawson, she deserves her position. She's definitely intelligent.

I'm almost relieved to see the door open again and see Miranda and three Cerberus soldiers in heavy armor entering the room.

"Oh good, I was getting bored." I say, trying to keep a flat expression.

"Hold him." Miranda says ignoring me. "And get some samples."

Two of the guards come up and hold me back against the chair while the third inserts a blood drawing needle into the crook of my elbow and begins to take samples and draw a large pouch of blood.

I don't resist. In fact, I try to relax to make it take longer to draw the blood.

Miranda frowns. "Clench your fist."

I look up at her. "No. Something tells me neither of us are in a rush, so I'll take my time thanks."

She rolls her eyes. "The sooner you learn to comply, the sooner we finish. The sooner we finish, the sooner we let you and your friend go."

I scoff. "How naïve do you think I am?"

"Seeing as you are here? Fairly." She shrugs. "I was testing you there to see if you are entirely stupid. I'm still not confident."

"Mm-hm." I sigh. "Alright, so, since I'm going to be here indefinitely, what exactly are you trying to do here?"

"That's classified." Miranda says, crossing her arms impatiently.

I roll my eyes. "Um, yeah, no shit. But call me curious. Besides, I feel like I have a need to know considering I'm a part of the project."

Miranda shakes her head exasperatedly. "No."

I scoff. "Come on…"

"No!" She barks back, giving me a hard look.

"Fine! Well what about your deceptive friend, Hope?" I ask.

"She's back on the Citadel soon." Miranda says absently. "Is the blood bag seriously only half full?"

"I could open a bigger wound ma'am." The Cerberus agent says next to me.

"You can try." I laugh.

"I'm not sure you understand your situation as of now, Splicer." Miranda says with a hard look. "We can go on like this for days, or weeks, but sooner or later you'll break."

"Hm, I see." I say with a frown. "Okay then. If we're going to be spending _that_ much time together we should get to know each other better, don't you think?"

Miranda doesn't respond, not even looking at me.

I smirk. "Okay, I'll start. Any siblings?"

Miranda looks at me, but just briefly. Her eyes cold and her expression unchanged except for a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"Any brothers? Sisters? I bet you have a younger sister." I say, tilting my head. "Or are you twins?"

She looks fully at me, eyes slightly widened.

"You look like you'd have a twin. Or a younger sister. Or is she both?" I say, tilting my head to the other side. At this point, I notice the Cerberus soldier taking my blood glances at Miranda, who shoots him a sharp glare and then quickly turns her eyes back to me.

"Your name is starts with an M." I say with another tilt of my head. "You don't seem like the type to have a mom but I bet your dad is quite organized. Your younger-twin sister must have a name that starts with a letter close to M. Maybe L, N, or maybe O. Olivia… Olympia… Oprah."

"Leave." Miranda says, quietly, yet aggressively. The guards all immediately leave.

Once they're all gone, Miranda takes a step closer and looks down at me in the eyes.

"What are you playing at?" Miranda growls.

"Nothing. Just trying to get to know you better." I say, pretending to be innocent. "Since you aren't so forthcoming, process of elimination is the best method... how am I doing?"

She punches me across the face, hard, and grabs my face, squeezing like a vice. "Listen to me. I don't know what you're trying to do, or how you could possibly know what you know, but if you so much as glance in the direction of my sister, I will ensure not another word will ever escape that big mouth of yours…"

She lets go of my face, looking at me hard. "Are we clear?"

"Not quite." I say, clearing my throat, some blood trickling down my from my split cheekbone. "First, now that you know that I know, I think you'll want to find out how much I know. But I won't say. Second, to really ensure that I remain uninvolved, you should just kill me now. Something tells me that you would have if you could, so you can't. Lastly, your options are limited and I can tell you're running through all of them now but I'll lay them out for you regardless:

"You have two options as of right now: You can let me go now or keep me. The benefit of option one is that you will have my guarantee that, as long as my friend isn't hurt and you leave me alone, your sister will be safe and I won't do anything about what I know. The downside is you'll know that you can't bother me again because I have the insurance of my knowledge, that I can arrange a variety of contingencies to ensure that if I ever go off grid because of Cerberus, your sister may or may not pay the price. Additionally, it means you can't experiment on me any further than you already have. Option two's benefit is that you get to keep working on me. Further, as long as you have me here you know I can't do anything to harm your sister at least not directly. You'll have to figure out if I haven't already set up contingencies against Cerberus though you are good at figuring that stuff out, aren't you? I mean, why else would I have such specific information, if not to prevent just this sort of thing from happening? You're asking yourself now if I somehow knew you'd take me. I didn't. This is just lucky. Anyway, the downside of keeping me here is that every day that you force me to stay here against my will is another day I have a chance to escape. And as I guaranteed you for option one, I'll guarantee that if you take option two, I will make your sister pay for what you did to me and my friends.

"You could take option three, possibly. The nuclear option, so to speak." I say narrowing my eyes. "I can tell you're considering it because you know that I'm right about all of this. You could just kill me now. You'll get in trouble. Who knows how badly, but you'll know that she's going to be safe from me for sure that way. Or as sure as you can be. I mean it's clear that I know in detail certain things that you've tried to keep secret and who knows what else I've done or what else I know to that regard? If you take option three, you won't know for sure and you'll have to work hard to make sure that your sister is safe again. Probably have to relocate her, give her a new identity, uproot her from her family and friends, etc. But hey, if you kill me at least you could still experiment on my corpse. I mean how valuable could I really be?"

She frowns, and continues to frown as I explain her options. After a pause when I finish, she draws her pistol, looking at it.

"I mean, if you really think that I can't be _that_ valuable, you might as well take option one." I say with a shrug.

After a while, she holsters her pistol, and moves to leave the room. Just as she's stepping through the doorway she looks back at me, frowning.

"The way I see it, I can exercise option two, while leaving both one and three open indefinitely. We'll see how two goes, and if I feel like it, and you beg me enough, I'll consider option three." She leaves, the door shutting behind her.

After a while, I let out a breath. "Fuck."

 **Meanwhile…**

Garrus slowly wakes to the sound of his name being repeated and his shoulders being shaken vigorously. He looks up, slowly, his head feeling as heavy as its ever been and his vision hazy. Wherever the hell he is, the light here is unbearably bright.

He brings a hand up to his head, pressing his palm against his temple to relieve the pounding inside of his skull and behind his eyes. Spirits…

"What happened?" He manages to slur out. "What's going on?"

Garrus's shoulders continue to be shaken, until finally he achieves some lucidity. First of all, he's outside. Garrus can't remember being outside. He can't remember much, but he's pretty sure he was recently inside. Second, kneeling before him is Alex the CSI desk jockey who has been very helpful on a number of cases.

Garrus groans and sits himself up some more. "Alex? What's going on?"

"Garrus, you've been off the grid for almost 16 hours. What the hell happened?" Alex asks, sounding stressed.

Garrus looks at her, confused. "I don't know. I'm… I was going to ask you what happened."

Alex rolls her eyes. "Well, I was at the station, going far beyond my job description in assisting with your case, as it seems I do with all of your cases recently. We found the mercs who were targeting that girl. They were at that hotel, remember? And you raced over there to stop them? I was tracking you until you went into the hotel and then you disappeared. I tried calling you for an hour and no response. I didn't have your location that your armor pings out. I called Chellick who just said that you like to go off grid sometimes. I still tried calling you for hours and could not find you anywhere. I was almost positive you were dead."

"How did you find me?" Garrus asks, clearing his throat.

"Wasn't actually hard, Garrus." Alex says with a frown, gesturing around her.

Garrus grunts and looks around. He's actually in the C-Sec parking lot, leaning up against his car. "What the hell?"

"Yeah, what the fucking hell. I've been awake for over 26 hours Garrus. 16 of those were spent looking for your sorry ass and you're just passed out in the parking lot? How long have you been here?" Alex asks, sounding angry.

Garrus slowly gets to his feet, his body aching, "I have no fucking clue. I can't remember anything."

"You have to try! What happened in that hotel?" Alex asks giving him a not so playful shove.

Garrus leans against his car, hand on his head. "Ugh… I… went inside. Talked to the receptionist to find the girl… Her name…?"

"Hope Lilium." Alex responds.

"Yeah… Told me she was in room… I can't remember the number but it was on the top floor. Went to it and the door was open… The room wasn't finished. It was under construction I think… No furniture." Garrus says, frowning, his head absolutely pounding. "Then… There were dead bodies in the other room. The mercs. Then… Splicer."

"Splicer?" Alex asks, her pose changing from arms crossed to leaning forward, her brow furrowed. "Again?"

"Splicer… Splicer. He was rolling up one of the bodies. I tried to arrest him and then… Oh shit." Garrus stops, his eyes widening as he remembers, going rigid as he grips the side of his car. "Oh shit Alex I remember. I went to arrest him and then something hit me from behind. I don't know what it was but it went through my shields and then I couldn't move. I saw him get taken away by two human women in these… like jumpsuits and then I blacked out."

"Are you sure he was taken or did they save him from you?" Alex asks, looking suspicious.

"No I think they took him. Like kidnapped him." Garrus says with a frown. "Hard as it is for me to say, I think he is in some trouble. I heard him get angry. He thought they killed me or something and they said they just stunned me… I think I remember they said that they had also taken his friend after that. It's all really hazy but I think he went with them under duress."

"Oh shit." Alex says, arms now slack, looking worried. "Is that all?"

"Yeah I blacked out after that." Garrus says, becoming steadily more alarmed. "Somebody must have come and took me out of there."

"Should we go there and look for evidence?" Alex asks, moving to get into Garrus's car.

"Whoever took me probably cleaned everything up." Garrus says with a frown. "There probably won't be anything left.

"There might be something. It's our only lead." Alex says, getting into Garrus's car. "Lets go. Two people have been kidnapped."

"Y-Yeah." Garrus quickly gets into the driver's seat and drives back to the hotel.

Along the way, Garrus continues to feel his head pounding.

"You okay there, Garrus?" Alex asks, looking at him with concern.

Garrus just nods. "Ugh. Yeah, I think so. I thought they stunned me, but that shouldn't last as long as this is. They probably drugged me too."

"Think you should go to the doctor?" Alex asks, deepening concern written on her face.

Garrus shakes his head. "Nah. If I'm not dead yet I don't think they wanted to kill me. Besides they could just inject me with a bit of human milk and it'd probably put me in anaphylactic shock so…"

"Ew don't say that." Alex says with a playful grossed out face; despite it she can't hide a smile at his joke.

"What human milk?" Garrus asks with a frown. "Am I getting it confused with something? It's the white stuff that you drink, no?"

"Yes but it isn't _human_ milk." Alex says with exasperation. "Biologically. Like it isn't produced by human bodies. It's usually cow milk, sometimes goat or soy or coconut or almond or…"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait." Garrus says, confused and disgusted. "You drink… The lactation of animals?"

Alex shrugs. "I mean… I personally don't that often but yeah humans do that."

"That is absolutely disgusting." Garrus says with a grimace. "So unsanitary."

"What do turians drink, then?" Alex asks, crossing her arms.

"Water." Garrus says, giving her a 'duh,' sort of look.

"How bland." Alex mumbles.

"Whatever." Garrus mumbles back. "So, what's a soy? I've never heard of that. Like what kind of animal is it, that you'd nurse it and drink from its teat."

"Again. Ew. Don't say that." Alex says again, swatting Garrus' arm gently. "First of all, we do not nurse or suckle directly from the animal (usually). Humans milk them, pasteurize it… whatever. Anyways, a soy is not an animal it's like a kind of bean."

Garrus slowly looks at Alex, who looks at him after she notices him staring.

"What?"

"Your legumes… produce… milk?" Garrus asks, his face twisted in confusion and disgust at the thought, his hands moving in a meaningful gesture. "They… have…?"

"Oh god. No! … No! What's wrong with you?" Alex barks at him, also stifling laughter.

"Nipples. What I didn't say there that I meant to say was nipples." Garrus says after a moment.

"Christ, Vakarian." Alex says, swatting him again before crossing her arms. "How the hell do you even know what nipples are? Turians don't have nipples right?"

Garrus shrugs. "Maybe turians don't but that didn't stop me from figuring it out for myself."

"Okay, what are we even talking about? Let's cut this conversation. We're here." Alex says with a heavy, sarcastic sigh.

Garrus lands the car and steps out, looking up at the hotel with a frown. He heads inside with Alex, gives a brief glace to the receptionist who he believes is a different person before heading upstairs to the top floor. His memory is fuzzy but this much he remembers. Once at the 8th floor, Garrus draws his pistol just as a precaution and Alex does the same to his surprise but he grins with pride regardless.

They head down the hall together, Garrus pointing out the room that he remembers being the one where everything took place. 815. They head inside, carefully. Garrus pies the doorway in the same way he did the first time and he gets an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu before they head inside. The room is a barebones double suite, with this one large main room, a bathroom and a large bedroom. Garrus vaguely remembers that there was plastic sheeting covering the floors and walls, as is typical in a room that's still being constructed. However, the plastic sheeting is all gone.

Garrus leads the way into the bedroom, holstering his weapon once he's sure both this room and the bathroom are clear and glances around. Again, all the plastic sheeting is gone, as are the bodies that Garrus very clearly remembers. He sighs.

"Like I thought, nothing. I'm not surprised this place got cleaned up." Garrus mumbles with a frown. After a moment of silence, Garrus glances around for Alex who isn't in this room with him. He steps back out into the main room, spotting Alex standing near the hotel room's entrance facing a small electronic console near the door.

"What are you doing?" Garrus asks.

"I didn't figure there'd be any physical evidence left. It's been too long." Alex says with a frown. "But I have a feeling about this room. I bet the hotel lets people use this room for illicit purposes."

"That seems blatantly obvious to me as well." Garrus mumbles. "But a lot of places do stuff like this. So?"

"Well, we can both see this room is under construction. Hotel rooms like these usually have VI interfaces but this room isn't finished so I'd bet that most people who use this room for their illicit purposes won't expect that the VI works either." Alex says typing into the console. "They'd be right. The VI is inactive but only partly. You can't interface with it but it is on and observing the room. Rather, you _can_ interface with it if you tweak it, it just can't respond like normal VIs."

"VI. Can you show me what happened here about 16 hours ago?" Alex says at the console, finishing her typing.

Sure enough, the screen changes and shows a grainy video of Splicer sitting in a metal chair in the bedroom, facing the doorway, idling about. After a few seconds there's a flash of light, bright enough that it interferes with the camera's ability to record anything for a brief second. There are several more flashes of blue and red light, and after the camera readjusts to the changes in lightning, Splicer is now standing among several dead bodies, looking down at them. Within a few seconds he killed 6 mercenaries.

Garrus watches Splicer shrug, holster a pistol and then squat down to start cleaning up the bodies. After a minute or two, Garrus watches himself step into the room, pistol raised at Splicer. They talk for a moment when an arc of electricity, definitely an omni-tool attack, hits Garrus in the back. It tears straight through his shields and sends him sprawling to the ground, twitching. It must have had a lot of power behind it, more than your average OT attack.

Two human women in jumpsuits walk into the room, just at the bottom of the frame of the image. They speak for a moment before Splicer lowers the pistol that he had raised at the women before walking with them off frame, glancing at Garrus as he passes. The two women step out of the room, giving the barest of side profiles before stepping out of the room. The playback ends.

"Not much to go on." Alex mumbles. "Didn't get a good look at them. But it looks like your story checks out."

"Hey whoa." Garrus says with a frown. " _I'm_ the one whose story you were verifying?"

She shrugs. "I'm a cop. Everyone's on the hook until they aren't."

Garrus rolls his eyes. "That isn't right it's the other way around."

Alex gives him a speculative look. "Be realistic."

Garrus rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Nevermind. There might be something there, roll it back."

Alex replays the entire thing.

"Hm." Garrus says thinking. "How many alleged Cerberus agents were you tracing with that APB?"

"Uh… seven." Alex says frowning at the screen.

"There are only six dead bodies in there." Garrus replies, matter-of-factly. "And there aren't anymore out of frame. When I found him yesterday, there were also six, I think. Have you gotten anything on those APBs?"

"I haven't checked since I've been looking for you." Alex replies with a frown, looking at her omni-tool. "Weird."

"What?"

"Well it seems your hunch was right. There's at least one more of the group alive." Alex says, frowning. "I have those six last logged around this area about 16 hours ago and nowhere else, for obvious reasons. But one was logged in this area about 17 hours ago, and then left about four hours later. This one wandered about for a while and has been near the Huerta Memorial Hospital for a few hours."

"How accurate is this?" Garrus asks.

"Pretty accurate, especially on the Citadel. Every Avina terminal can run the APB program and pick a face out of a crowd of 10,000 within 100 meters with a 0.001% margin of error." Alex says with a smirk. "So chances are he's within 100 meters of the Avina terminal outside of Huerta Memorial Hospital."

"Which probably means he's there." Garrus says with a nod. "Let's go."

 **Later…**

Garrus and Alex step out of his car outside of Huerta Memorial Hospital.

"Run this guy's name by me again?" Garrus says leaning against his car, feeling progressively more and more tired.

"Yoon Tae-Sin, or just Sin. But notice the difference in pronunciation? _'Sheen'_ versus _'Sin'_ " Alex asks. Garrus nods. "Tae-Sin is his name, but the latter part sounds similar to and phonetically looks like an English word: Sin; which are deplorable acts as seen through a religious lens. So that's probably why he's called that by others. Like a street name I guess."

"Considering his criminal record I'm sure he's earned his moniker outside of its similarity to his actual name." Garrus says, heading toward the hospital with Alex close next to him. "Listen, he's dangerous, injured or not. Stick close to me."

"Don't think I can handle myself, Vakarian?" Alex asks him, giving him a sarcastically contemptuous, and yet tense look.

Garrus scoffs. "Not at all. I'm just saying…"

"I didn't fail out of the academy due to the physical fitness requirements, combatives, or firearms testing I'll have you know." Alex says with a frown.

"I'm sure you're quite capable." Garrus replies, waving his hands dismissively. "I'm just _saying…_ It might take the both of us to take him down. I'm asking you to watch my back."

"Oh." Alex replies, visibly relaxing. "Good. I mean, yeah, yeah I got your back."

"Thanks, partner." Garus says with a grin, making Alex smirk. "Or should I say 'Partner for today.'"

Alex punches him on the arm, causing him mild pain, before leading the way into the hospital. Garrus smirks, rubs his arm and heads after her. Alex approaches the front desk.

"Excuse me." Alex says, flashing her C-Sec credentials quickly so the receptionist doesn't notice the big 'CSI' tag on it. "C-Sec. We need to speak with a patient."

"Patient's name?" The receptionist asks, brightly, not only as if she's speaking to any other customer but also that this kind of thing happens not just daily but hourly.

"Yoon Tae-Sin." Alex says, before pausing, thinking. "Though he might be using a different name."

"He's a dangerous criminal." Garrus adds.

The receptionist hardly raises her eyebrows in reaction, still focused on her terminal. "Room 103."

Garrus frowns at Alex, who cocks an eyebrow. "Thanks."

They head down the hall towards the room in question and Garrus opens the door. A human stands near a window facing out over the Presidium. He's only partially dressed, looking like he was getting ready to leave. He's wearing a pair of black pants and socks and naught else, holding a grey shirt in his hand.

He looks over his shoulder with a frown that doesn't seem circumstantial like most human expressions, rather this is permanently etched on his face. Garrus glances at Alex as the man turns around, who eyes him down and then back up before glancing up at Garrus, meeting his eye for a moment.

She gives a sarcastic, wry shrug and looks back at the human. Garrus shakes his head and faces the man again.

"Yoon Tae-Sin?" Garrus asks.

The man puts his shirt on and nods. Garrus notices that he's carefully favoring his right arm, cradling it close to his body. His theory is confirmed as after he puts his shirt on, the human gingerly puts on a sling and sets his right arm into it. "Yes."

"I'm detective Garrus Vakarian." Garrus starts before looking at Alex, feeling the need to apply authority to her as well. "This is… my partner. Alex Cisoto."

Alex glances at Garrus again, failing to stifle a grin. Garrus takes a breath, deciding quickly how he should approach this. "I need to ask you some questions, regarding a possible kidnapping."

This seems to take Sin aback, as he gives a harder frown and furrows his brows and Garrus knows that this means he's confused. Quickly, Sin changes his expression back to a more neutral, cold look.

"Kidnapping." He says, simply.

"A human, Splicer. And possibly another person." Garrus says. "We understand you were, potentially, involved."

Sin is quiet for a moment. "Am I under arrest?"

"Honestly?" Alex says, jumping in, much to Garrus pleasure. "Yes. Your rights all apply to you. But we're not trying to muscle anything out of you. We already know you were involved. But we're trying to save a few lives here. And we need your help."

Sin nods, thoughtful. "Okay. Sure. I'll help, if I can."

Garrus nods. "Good. Tell us everything you know."

 **Meanwhile…**

"Miranda!" I shout from the place I've been tied to for at least 24 hours now. "Miranda! Option one, is OFF THE TABLE! Hear me?! I'm getting annoyed! I mean, if you still let me go, great, but I need to go to the bathroom!"

I sigh. Okay. What else do I know? I played the first Mass Effect, and Mass Effect 2, but 3 hadn't come out yet when I disappeared to Rapture. I need to figure out how to leverage what I know. But, honestly, I already used all of my knowledge. The only thing I can remember in detail is the secret hidden sister thing. To be fair, it's been nearly a decade since I've played those games, let alone paid attention to it. Now I'm beating myself up for skipping every other sentence of dialogue in the games after my first playthrough.

While I'm trying to think of something, the door opens much to my relief.

And to my even greater relief, the six guards who come in remove my restraints and help me to my feet.

"Listen." The guard removing my restraints says. "We understand that you could probably kick our asses, alright? But we're still doing this, so we hope you won't."

"What, exactly, are you doing?" I ask, standing and stretching, taking a second to crack my back and roll my shoulders.

"Moving you to a cell." The guard says.

"Is there a toilet?" I ask, with a grunt as I crack my neck.

"Yes."

I nod. "Cool. Let's go… quickly."

Rather than force me along as I thought they might, the guards merely flank me on either side and in front of and behind me. Moreover they allow me to march along with them without any restraints of any kind, though I can see all of the guards are quite stiff as they walk. I'm not sure if that's to maintain an appearance of military bearing and precision or if it is because they're wound tight, ready to react if I attack them.

After yesterday's fiasco and Miranda's consistent threats to Nata's wellbeing, I don't think I'm stupid enough to attack them right now. Moreover, I sincerely doubt I could get any information out of them either by attacking and interrogating them or by merely talking to them hoping that somebody lets something slip. Still, I might as well get a feel for them.

"Hey I don't mean to be a pain, but I really need to use the bathroom. Do you guys mind if we double time it?" I ask, being quite honest about it as well.

The guard who removed my restraints looks back at me from where he's walking a few feet ahead. "Sure. Just keep pace. If you move faster than we do, we'll shoot."

I nod and the group of us as a whole starts jogging briskly down the long corridors they're leading me down. Getting a feel for the place, I can already tell we're somewhere quite large. The facility has some very large open rooms that I can see past the few doorways we pass. Moreover, these corridors we're moving down are very wide and tall, most likely to accommodate vehicles or large pieces of equipment. The facility or station we're in also seems sparsely populated. You'd think, based on its size that there'd be quite a few people here and there but glancing into those rooms we pass I rarely see anybody.

Most of the rooms that we pass seem to be a combination of storage or hanger rooms and of laboratories. Most of them are filled with all manner of science equipment and are labeled with signs like "14F," hardly giving away their purpose. Curiously though, whenever I see a person in one of these labs, they appear oddly unoccupied. The majority of the sciencey types I've seen are milling about, appearing busy but in a vapid way; merely carrying things from one place to another or cleaning and polishing equipment. You can see it in the way they move or stand while they work. Their hearts aren't into it; they move slowly and without purpose, staring off at the walls or leaning against them while they work. Some of them don't even bother trying to look busy. They sit around or lean on work tables with their omni-tools open, staring blankly at them without any sort of purpose. It's almost as if they don't have any purpose or actual work to do… yet.

Somehow I feel like that has something to do with me. Rather, my being here will ignite some purpose or work for them to do. At present this place just seems like a big waste of money but the longer that I'm here, the more samples that they take from me, I'm sure I'll see that change.

I have got to get out of here. But I'm not leaving without Nata.

We get to an area where 2 corridors meet in a T-shape. Where the corridors meet, the area opens up quite a bit into a diamond sort of shape, where the point leads towards the branching corridor. The branching corridor is blocked by two sets of doors, both of which are made of very tough looking glass. Above the first set of doors is a sign labeled "containment." Between our group and the corridor to the containment area is a large semi-circular desk with another guard sitting there.

The desk guard appears somewhat confused that we're running, but stands up alert when we approach.

"She wants him near to the front." The guard at the desk says. "So, I logged him in cell 2. Next the gate."

The guard who removed my restraints, who is probably in charge, seems perplexed by this, as he hesitates, his assault rifle tightening in his grip as he looks back at me. "That doesn't make sense. There aren't motion alarms near to the front. If he gets out, we won't know until he's through the first door."

The desk guard shrugs. "Lawson's orders."

The lead guard hesitates again. "Ms. Lawson is in charge of RD and the science divisions, not security. I am. Are you a scientist?"

The desk guard fidgets. "No, sir. Chief it's just that… you know how she is."

I give a snort of laughter but don't say anything.

The chief of security straightens a bit. "I'll have a word with her. I want him at the end. That way you'll know 10 times before he even gets to the glass."

The desk guard doesn't seem to want to argue. He nods immediately. "Yes sir. Would you like me to call Dr. Lawson?"

The chief shakes his head. "Yes, no. It doesn't matter. Log him for cell 20."

The chief guard then gestures and the desk guard nods, pressing some button on his desk. With a shrill, sharp alarm sound, the first set of doors behind him opens. My retinue enters the cramped antechamber and the door shuts behind us.

"This place is fucking huge." I muse out loud, after the door shuts behind us.

This being the first thing I say in quite a while, and in such tight quarters, it seems to put the guards at a bit of an unease. They fidget a bit as some decontamination cycle begins. They don't say anything though. Though I was sure earlier that I won't be able to get any information off them just by talking to them, maybe their body language will let something slip.

"So, you're the station security chief huh?" I ask, leaning forward a bit.

This causes one of the guards close behind me to jerk forward, putting his hand on my shoulder and press a pistol into my kidney, hard enough to hurt, though he doesn't bark any command.

The chief merely looks back at me, casual indifference plain in his voice. "If that's what you heard, it must be true. Or it could be that Dr. Lawson told me to say that."

I frown, quickly realizing that that could very well be true. Without being able to see his face thanks to his heavy armor helmet I can't glean anything to say whether he's lying or telling the truth, though his body is still tense. Tenser, if anything, compared to when we were walking out in the wide corridors earlier.

I'm not sure if they're afraid of me or if they're merely staying ready to attack if they need to, always coiled up like a cornered snake.

I lean back, deciding not to press my luck much. "Out of curiosity, what's up next? I just want to be mentally prepared for whatever experiments they might conduct on me."

The chief looks at me for a moment before shrugging. "Fair enough. Though I can't tell you. That's outside my pay grade."

"Understandable." I say, feigning a defeated sigh. "Is this going to take much longer? I need to pee."

"No, not much longer." The chief says, looking back forwards.

"Again, out of curiosity, are you going to be leaving anybody to watch me? I have to do more than pee to be honest and I get kind of shy when other people are around." I say trying to sound serious, though I'm not being dishonest in the slightest.

I hear the chief scoff, to my surprise. "No, that won't be necessary. We'll have eyes on you with security cameras and the hall has plenty of motion trips to warn us if you're trying to escape. So be as loud as you want."

At this point the decontamination cycle ends and the second set of tough glass doors slide open silently. The guards march me forwards.

"I see the cells have glass doors as well." I muse out loud. "I hope they're soundproof. Otherwise I can't be _that_ noisy so as not to disturb any of my fellow experiments."

"The cells are soundproofed. Regardless, you have the whole place to yourself. Again be as loud as you like." The chief responds casually leading me down the about 30 to 40 yard corridor towards the end.

I don't respond, I just nod, my stomach making enough noise for me. The cell at the end on the right side of the corridor opens about halfway there.

I try to appear casual as I glance side to side into each of the cells though I figured that they would see that as an understandable, predictable behavior. Regardless of that, one of the guards shoves my face hard to get my attention forward.

"Eyes forward." The guard who shoved me barks.

"What's the point?" Another guard says. "There's nobody else here anyways."

Regardless, I keep my eyes ahead as we reach my cell. The chief gestures me in and I do so without complaint or resistance. The cell door closes, and the guards walk away. I quickly drop my pants and get on the toilet. Sorry to be graphic about it but that's what's happening.

While on the toilet I think about all that I had learned. First, we had walked for just about 94 seconds before I asked for us to run. When we started to run, we didn't go fast but we ran for about 212 seconds. In total we traveled for 5 minutes and 6 seconds, quite a distance to go from where I was at first though we did make a few turns and we went down a level as well. However, we went straight for the most part. That tells me that this station or wherever we are is mostly straight and narrow, and quite long. If I had to guess it's at least a kilometer in length, though without a doubt it could be much longer. When we first got here, I don't recall quite how long we went from the shuttle, however it wasn't far. That tells me that wherever I was held the first time around, I think I was close to the main hanger if there is one. At least now I know approximately how far and what direction I need to go to get back to the hanger.

Second, the rooms or facilities of this station are marked nondescriptly and there are no signs or directional markings to navigate with, despite the size of the place. This tells me a few things. One, this place must be secret, covert or clandestine in some way. This should be obvious because it is Cerberus. Second, that any signposting is significant on its own. Labs like "14F" are listed as such for a reason, whether it means that there are 20 labs on deck F and this is the 14th one or 14F is the F-th lab in sector 14 or that labs are identified with the 14 or the F and distinguished from one another by the letter or number. Regardless of the system, there must be one.

Therefore, the signage marking this area as "containment" must be significant. There are multiple labs, storage areas, checkpoints, security offices, barracks, etc. All marked with numbers and letters. But this area is just labeled "containment" and I don't think it was done to deceive me. That must mean that there is only one containment area. And if what the chief said is true and my quick glances into the cells confirmed, I'm the only one here.

So Nata isn't on this station. Or she's being kept in a broom closet somewhere. Or she's being kept at another facility. Or she's already dead.

I'm pretty convinced Nata isn't on this station based on what I've seen and figured out. I don't think Miranda is a fool. She's incredibly intelligent, to the point that each of her moves and actions is calculated and thought out. She wanted me near the front for a reason. I think it's because she knows that the signage of this area is pretty distinct of other areas of the station and keeping me near the front of the cells would ensure that I remain unaware or unsure of my being alone here. The chief is right in that it seems certainly possible that they previously discussed what they should let slip to me if I ask so that I learn false information, but that seems a little farfetched and I think he said that just to throw me off balance. I'm convinced that I'm the only person contained in this facility and that Nata is unlikely to be on this station too.

What does that leave? I doubt they're keeping her in some broom closet. That seems unlikely. It's possible she's being kept at a separate facility, though I doubt that as well. They took me to this station specifically; likely because Miranda is in charge of it. If Miranda is overseeing this whole project/mission, I don't see why she would take the extra effort to send Nata off to some _other_ Cerberus base somewhere else in the galaxy. That seems like an unnecessary division of resources and labor. So if we take that off the list, one of the only remaining explanations is that Nata might already be dead.

If that's the case, they can't leverage her life against me to keep me here.

And I'll take this whole goddamn place down if they killed her.

 **Meanwhile…**

"Garrus, can I have a word?" Alex asks as they walk up to the building.

Garrus nods to her and looks at Sin who walks ahead of them somewhat. He nods Sin along and he continues into the building to wait in the lobby. Garrus turns to Alex, who looks lost in thought somewhat.

"What is it?" Garrus asks, not wanting to say something like 'what's wrong?' or 'what's on your mind?' in order to keep her from thinking that he has some vested personal interest in her well being… which he doesn't.

She looks up at him, her eyes having formed some dark circles from a lack of sleep. Nevertheless they are still a lovely green and bright as always.

"This is why I became C-Sec. Like… This investigation; the stakes? It's exhilarating." She says, slight smile coming to her lips.

Garrus can't help but smile back, in the turian fashion of course. It seems odd, but Alex has a brightness to her that even a turian can't help but warm to. "This investigation is a bit more interesting than some."

Alex rolls her eyes. "You're missing my point."

"No, I'm not." Garrus says with a small laugh. He puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're good at this. Seriously. You have good instincts. You're clever. You're keeping up. Honestly If this is how well you performed in the academy, you should have been top of your class."

She gives a smile at the compliment but shrugs it off. "You know why I didn't pass."

Garrus rolls his eyes. "You know those test aren't really representative of a real environment."

"It wasn't just that according to the paperwork." Alex says with a sigh. "I'm content at my desk job."

"You just said you found this day to be the peak of your career." Garrus points out matter-of-factly.

She shrugs. "I know but I'm not going to be a real detective so I know that I should try not to enjoy it so much. But it's just exhilarating, and in a twisted way I'm actually _looking forward_ to catching the bad guys and saving people but it won't last."

Garrus is quiet for a second. "Can I be honest with you, Alex?"

She shrugs again.

"I've never really gotten along with my partners. They either hold me back or… they hold me back. Chellick was one of the first partners I had who set me up for success and made my job easier and not harder, though he did it from the sidelines." Garrus gives her a serious, sincere look. The best he can muster under conscious effort at least seeing as how he's trying to express some emotion to a human. "You are probably the first person I've worked with who not only makes my job easier, but who keeps up too. To that end, I'm going to recommend you for detective and request that you be my partner. I have a few favors from higher up I can call in, not to mention the many Chellick owes me."

Alex gives Garrus a shy and warm smile before just nodding. "Thanks partner."

Garrus returns the smile and checks to make sure Sin is still in the lobby. Seeing he is, Garrus nods towards the door. "Duty calls."

Garrus and Alex enter the lobby and Sin nods towards the elevator, leading them into it. Once inside Garrus opens his omni-tool and starts recording.

"Go over again what happened here." Garrus says, looking at Sin.

Sin points towards the front of the building. "I followed the target, a woman named Hope, to this apartment building early in the morning, around 4 in the morning. She was in there a while and then left and I tailed her. Splicer attacked me shortly after, apparently following me as I followed Hope. He took me over to the hotel where he told me to wait for him in the bathroom. I did so for a few hours but he didn't show, so I left. Coming back to this apartment building, we asked if anybody hasn't turned up in a while from the apartment manager. He was reluctant to share anything."

Garrus nods. "Good. Just so happens I have a feeling which apartment we need to go to."

"How's that?" Alex asks.

"Been here before." Garrus says in a low voice, almost speaking with himself.

The elevator reaches the 7th floor and Garrus leads the way to the corner apartment at the end of the hall.

Garrus rings the bell for the door.

" _Greetings."_ A VI's artificial and accented voice says from somewhere on the door. _"Who have I the pleasure of announcing?"_

"Detective Garrus Vakarian, Citadel Security identification 47A2116F14, emergency authorization 414C12. Open the door, I need to investigate the premises." Garrus says to the VI, expecting the door to open.

There is a slight pause before the VI responds. _"I am sorry Detective. Unfortunately, according to Citadel penal code 220AB-12: Citadel Security personnel may only enter a private domicile under the pretense of emergencies when there are currently occupants therein with the consent of the occupants present or with a warrant, so long as said occupants are not trespassing or committing any criminal actions currently, not in distress, have not themselves contacted C-Sec and are not requiring emergency medical attention. Do you have such a document permitting your entry, Detective?"_

Garrus frowns. "There are people here?"

" _Yes."_

"Announce me."

There is a long pause. After about 15 seconds, the doors to the apartment's decompression chamber and inner door open and standing there, to his surprise is Officer Zurin 'Zero' Sagaeus.

Zero looks equally surprised for a second before he seems to realize who he is looking at. At that point his expression sours quickly. He looks at Alex and Sin in curiosity.

"Detective Vakarian." Zero says, formally and somewhat sarcastically.

"Zero." Garrus responds, informally. "It's good to see you. What are you doing here?"

"I'm responding to a call. I'm here to take a kidnapping report." Zero responds, more matter-of-factly and less sarcastically. "I figured that was why you were here."

Garrus frowns and gestures. "Can I come in?"

Zero just steps out of the way and Garrus enters the apartment. To his surprise, a quarian woman is sitting on the couch in the main room of the apartment.

Garrus suddenly remembers something. Something important. "You're a friend of Splicer's?"

The quarian is silent but goes rigid for a moment. She then just shakes her head.

Garrus sighs in exasperation.

"It's okay." Alex says, gently, suddenly stepping forward. "We're here to help, actually. We know he's been taken and we think we know by who."

The quarian appears to relax. "You'll... You'll find him?"

Alex nods. "Yes."

Garrus steps forward again. "I was there when he was kidnapped. His captors said that they had his friend. 'The quarian.' Is that you?"

The quarian hesitates, but nods. "Yes. My name is Nata."

Garrus looks at Alex. "We both know who this is, don't we? She was the quarian who helped pull that guy from the lake on the Presidium. With Zero."

Alex nods. "Yeah. And I don't think it's a coincidence that you're here either. Isn't that right Zero?"

Zero, looking mightily uncomfortable, steps away from the now closed door. He doesn't say anything.

Garrus gives a harsh sigh, looking between the quarian and Zero. "You know, I've been looking for you two for a long while now. Trying to figure out the connection between all of you so that I could put Splicer behind bars. Now that I have all the evidence I need to do it, I find myself trying to save his ass instead. Funny how things work out isn't it?"

"Why exactly are you trying to save him?" Zero asks, suddenly accusatory and suspicious. "You just trying to get him yourself so you can arrest him when he's vulnerable?"

Garrus is quiet for a bit. "It crossed my mind. But no Zero. Because he's in danger and because saving him is the right thing to do."

Garrus said it sound bluntly that Zero literally takes a step back, taken totally off guard. Internally, Garrus is glad to be able to change Zero's opinion of him. Say what you will about the two of them, but Garrus respects Zero, truly.

Zero, quiet for a moment as he sizes Garrus up, then nods. "Okay, I'm in. I'll help if I can."

Garrus grins. "Alright. Good. So now that we know it's only Splicer they have they probably only wanted him. But we still don't know where they took him."

"I might be able to find that out." Alex says, jumping in. She gestures to Nata. "With her help actually."

Nata tilts her head quizzically. "How's that?"

"If this Hope person was involved in the kidnapping, then I can retrace her footsteps through Citadel surveillance to get an idea of where they might have taken Splicer. I think it's safe to say that he's not on the Citadel anymore if we really are dealing with Cerberus. So I can probably trace her or the other kidnapper back to the ship or at least the hanger they took to get out of here. I just don't have any technical knowhow when it comes to ships but if I can find out where they left out of or what ship they might have been on, could you maybe figure out where they went?" Alex asks, directing her attention to Nata.

"Under normal circumstances," Nata starts, getting to her feet with a sigh. "I might make some sarcastic comment about how you're making an assumption about me because of my species. However, in light of the circumstances I'll skip that and say that _despite_ my species, yes I do know a thing or two about ships. And yes, if you can give me details on the ship or even figure out what hanger they left out of, I can probably figure out where they went."

"How's that?" Zero asks.

"Citadel traffic control and customs is strict about who enters but not as much about who leaves, naturally. When you come in there's usually a waiting period, background checks, logging, inspection of cargo and passengers, medical/vaccinations records vetting, etc. One thing often overlooked though is that all ships that enter or leave Citadel space put out IFF signals using radio waves. It's necessary to be able to identify unknown ships approaching the Citadel or ships belonging to a particular government. What most people don't know is that your IFF signal is unique to your ship, to a degree. Most notably, it tells C-Sec where your ship is registered, who to, where it was built, whether it is military and what military or species it belongs to, and other such information. It's how C-Sec vets certain ships. If a quarian ship from the Migrant Fleet comes to get supplies, their IFF will show it is a quarian ship and C-Sec will likely leave it out to wait for entry for weeks if they're lucky.

"What most people don't know is that when you come to the Citadel, no matter how you came here, legally or no, your IFF is recorded into a logbook. There isn't anything you can do to prevent that because you need to have an IFF otherwise your ship gets flagged as unknown and hostile and the recording is automated. The logbook isn't really used for much of anything anyways since it just records the basic data of the IFF which appears as a nearly incomprehensible line of code. When you leave the IFF pings you for leaving the Citadel too, taking data on you until you leave the system."

"Okay but how does that help us figure out where their ship went?" Garrus asks.

"Hey! You see me jump in when you had your little stare off with your turian buddy over there? Um, no, so shut your flappy lips and let me finish!" Nata snaps, pointing a slender quarian finger at him. "Among the data of the IFF is recent navigational data. Very basic data only displayed for security reasons. Nothing that would tell a person where someone has been or where they are going for security reasons. But that's to an untrained eye. It'll have coordinates and Mass Relay keys for recent FTL jumps. It'll also have some engine data such as Mass Effect spikes during FTL jumps, which I can use to figure out when they used FTL jumps between Mass Relays. Using this information, I think I can triangulate a possible location as to where Splicer might be. If you can figure out what ship he was on, that is. Otherwise I'll just be scrolling through thousands of ship IFFs to find one or a few possible ones he could have been on."

"Holy shit that sounds complicated." Zero says, sounding somewhat in awe.

Nata shrugs. "I may not be a hacker or a biotic or a soldier or… well anything really useful but I can navigate with the best of them and read a ship's code like it was a children's book… well not quite as easily but you get it… I'm awesome."

Zero nods in agreement.

"Okay, Alex take Nata and see if you can figure out what ship they took to get out of here and where they might have gone. Zero, why don't you and I figure out a means of transportation since we're going to have to leave the Citadel." Garrus says nodding to each of them.

Zero nods but then looks unsure. "Uh, I don't know Garrus. I doubt Pallin is going to approve this. Especially considering that it goes off Citadel, I doubt we have jurisdiction."

Garrus nods, knowingly. "I know, but we don't have any other choice. Time is of the essence. If we figure out where they are and go through the proper channels, who's to say that any particular military is going to do anything about it? Short of blowing up the entire place Splicer is being held at, that is. Besides, that would take… what? Three, four weeks at best? No, we're his only chance."

Alex nods firmly. "He's right, Z. So… I hope you have a few sick days left."

Zero hesitates but chuckles. "I might have to use a few vacation days. I'll say my grandma died on Palavan or something."

Garrus scoffs and shakes his head. "Whatever you have to do. But you have a good point… Finding or requisitioning a ship might be tough. Let alone flying it… Nata you wouldn't happen to be a pilot on top of a navigator would you?"

Nata thinks for a moment. "Uh. I could _maybe_ fly something small; like a shuttle or maybe a gunship? And I can navigate us where we need to go for sure. But assuming that this place we're going is out of the system? Yeah, no. Our vessel is going to need a drive core so we can jump FTL. I can't fly something like that, just keep it running and chart a course."

Garrus looks expectantly at Zero and Alex. They look at each other before looking back at Garrus.

"Do you seriously think that I can fly a ship?" Zero asks with a confused expression.

Alex looks at Garrus before shaking her head. "Don't look at me dude. I can't be good at everything."

Garrus sighs in defeat. "So we need a pilot."

"No." Comes a voice from the corner.

Garrus looks over at Sin. "You?"

Sin nods. "I can fly a ship with a drive core."

"I don't think we can really trust you." Garrus says, saying what everyone is thinking.

"You don't have a lot of options." Sin says, also saying what everyone is thinking. There's a long pause before Garrus merely sighs and shrugs by way of response.

Nata leans over to Alex. "Sorry, who the fuck is this dude?"


	8. Run

**Mass Effect**

 **Massive Shock Redux**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Mass Effect or BioShock franchises or any characters or property that BioWare or 2K games has staked claim upon. Original Characters that I create may be used or distributed for use at my leisure.**

 **Author's Note at the End.**

 **Ch. 8: Run**

 **1:24 AM March 05, 2182**

Garrus rubs his face, as if that'll strip away some of the exhaustion he's feeling. It's been far too long since he's slept but there's far too much to do to take the time to rest now. He shakes some of the sleepiness off and tries to focus on driving.

"You know, say what you will, but you're anything but not dedicated." Zero says, sounding just as tired as Garrus does.

Garrus looks over at Zero. "How's that?"

"You've been going, looking all day and night for leads to find a guy you've spent the last few months trying to arrest. But you're not looking for him to arrest him. You're trying to save him." Zero shrugs. "Puts you in a new light for me Garrus."

"Thanks, I suppose." Garrus says with a shrug and a frown.

"It is a compliment." Zero says, not hastily at all. Rather he just says it, not caring if Garrus is offended or not. "You have a… reputation. And my opinion of you doesn't do you justice either."

Garrus glances at Zero, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn't Garrus nudges Zero. "That's it? Say more."

Zero shrugs. "People around the department think that you are allergic to rules or something. I mean, I get the point of it. You want to catch the bad guy and make sure he gets what he deserves, right?"

Zero looks at Garrus for a response. Garrus just nods, a bit guarded but open.

Zero nods and continues. "Honestly, I think in most situations I'd do the same thing as you would. Not that we think the same. We have completely different mindsets. See, I think you want to catch the bad guy and screw how you do it as long as it gets done. Me? I want to do the right thing."

"So do I." Garrus says, firmly.

Zero shakes his head. "No, it's different. I wouldn't be a cop if catching the bad guy wasn't important to me. But I don't think everyone is bad. I would bend the rules to help someone if I thought it was the right thing to do, regardless of whether they committed a crime or not. A guy steals some food? Okay, return the food and I'll give him some money if I can or buy him a meal."

Garrus shakes his head. "You might blame me, personally, for you not passing your promotion board. You might think it's because you're barefaced. But your mindset is probably why you didn't pass. You know the higher ups don't give a fuck about your moral compass. They _want_ you to be motivated to catch criminals. That's your job, period."

Garrus expects this to make Zero angry, but to his surprise Zero just shrugs indifferently.

"Agree to disagree." Zero responds, simply. "You think being a cop is about catching bad guys. I disagree. That's all."

It seems that Garrus's attempt to poke Zero backfired and now he's mad. But Garrus doesn't snap back. He just sighs and looks out the window of his car as it flies towards the C-Sec impound hanger.

If Garrus is going to be honest with himself, he's probably not doing this entirely for the reasons that he said he was. Everything he did say to Zero earlier was true. He doesn't think that Splicer is a necessarily bad person. In actuality, Splicer has done quite a bit to making the Citadel a safer place. Word around the precinct is that the crime rates have gone down in the last few weeks, particularly among organized circles. Splicer has been hired to do hits against crime circles here and there but won't work _for_ the gangs or cartels that he's hitting. He's making enemies sure but he's usually one step ahead of them. On top of that, since he has a tendency to stop any crimes he sees occurring he's garnered more of a vigilante reputation over a mercenary one. But he doesn't simply stop the criminals. He often beats them within an inch of their life or kills them completely. And apparently this is enough to discourage criminals from going out as often.

Of course, all of this is alleged. Splicer is very good. He rarely leaves any evidence of his involvement in any of his activities. Rather, any information of his activities are spread through word of mouth or the rare surveillance video here and there. The only solid forensic evidence is in ballistics but being that no ones been able to get a hold of Splicer's weapons that can't be verified. It doesn't help things that Executor Pallin seems to have a soft spot for him. Nowadays, if a couple of career criminals end up dead and the detectives think it's Splicer, Executor Pallin points them somewhere else and the case gets swept away basically.

But in his extensive research, Garrus has been able to piece together an idea of what Splicer does and why he does it. He's concluded that he's probably got a hero complex and a stiff moral compass. So, he isn't a bad guy, necessarily. Nonetheless, Garrus is still convinced that numerous murders are his responsibility and he can't really let that go. Not to mention the litany of other crimes that Splicer commits in order to complete his work. Break-ins, discharging weapons in public spaces, the list goes on.

So, Zero wasn't entirely wrong in his accusation, though Garrus didn't lie either. Garrus is not saving Splicer just so he can arrest him. Rather, Garrus is saving Splicer because he needs saving. Afterwards, if he turns out to be the criminal Garrus believes he is, then Garrus will arrest him. Simple as that.

Garrus and Zero exit the car upon arriving at the impound lot. Sin also steps out of the car behind them. Garrus actually forgot that he was there. He's not only quiet, he's usually completely silent. Almost as if he consumes noise, making him a blank space in reality. You almost have to try and notice him.

Garrus takes a look around and doesn't need to look for Chellick, who approaches from nearby. Garrus gives him a quick, one-armed hug and steps back. He introduces Sin, briefly, leaving out most of the details of how they met.

Chellick sighs. "Alright so you mentioned you needed a ship. For a case?"

Garrus nods. "Yeah. We need to go off Citadel."

Chellick breathes out forcefully and runs a hand over the top of his fringe. "Garrus. That's… Intense. Even for you. You know you'd probably be booted off the force if they figured out you went off Citadel to capture a criminal?"

"That's the thing…" Garrus starts, considering how to proceed with this. "We're not going to apprehend someone."

Chellick looks confused, shrugs. "Why then?"

"To save someone. Kidnapping victim." Zero says for Garrus.

Chellick passes a glance at Zero and then gives Garrus a long look before he shrugs nonchalantly. "Not really my business anyways. I'll hook you guys up with a ship that can handle deep space travel but it's not going to be much. Just enough to get you from point A to B."

Garrus nods. "Whatever you can do Chellick, I appreciate it."

 **A Few Hours Later…**

Garrus stands near their borrowed ship, an impounded cargo ship of Batarian origin, meaning it has completely oversized engines, a rugged, blocky shape and a terrible paint job. Batarians seem to think that brown and grey-green are good colors for a space ship. Sin descends the auxiliary ladder leading into the ship and gives Garrus a nod.

"She'll fly. Nothing I can see that's wrong. Nothing special either." Sin says hopping off the ladder. "And I can fly her."

"Where to, though. That's the question. Hopefully Alex can figure that out." Zero says from nearby, holding a crate of rations in his arms.

As if on que then, Alex and Nata enter the impound hanger bay where their ship, and many other impounded vessels, are docked.

"Good news?" Garrus asks as they approach.

Alex gives Garrus a grin and nods. "Yes. Good news. Nata is as good as she says she is. Not that I doubted you at all."

Nata shrugs, modestly and nods. "I try not to talk myself up if I can't live up to it."

"She managed to track the ship that took off with Splicer just like she said she would and we traced it to a system in the Horsehead Nebula, though it made several unnecessary detours, probably to avoid tracing." Alex shrugs. "Conventional tracing at any rate. I'll admit, Nata's way of doing things was nuanced to say the least."

"Only someone who's lived on and navigated ships for their whole lives would know such things." Nata says, then shrugs. "Even then, they might not even need to know. You just need to know how to read the data."

"You're sure?" Garrus asks, not because he doubts her but he needs to be sure.

Nata scoffs and holds out a data chip. "Bet your ass I'm sure. Here. This nav chip has the navigational data we'll need for the trip, pre-programmed. For good measure, I put in an escape course. The ship's VI will do the rest."

Garrus nods and takes the chip. "Thanks, we appreciate it. We'll be back in a few days at most."

"You kidding?" Nata says, suddenly going a bit stiff. "I'm coming with you. And before you start, my friend needs my help. I may not be any good in a fight but I'm not useless. I'm coming, and that's that."

Garrus begins to protest but stops himself. Something tells him that there's probably nothing he can do to convince her so he just nods and she enters the ship. Garrus looks at Zero who gives a passive shrug before entering the ship himself. Garrus turns to face Alex.

"You look unsure." Garrus says, crossing his arms. "I think."

She shrugs. "Somewhat. This is just going to be dangerous. It's a bit… dodgy to think that we won't have any back up if things go south."

"Things will definitely 'go south.'" Garrus says before putting on a reassuring smile. "But we'll have each others' back at least. That's something."

Alex shrugs. "I mean I guess… Guess there's no point wasting time. Let's go."

Garrus and Alex enter the ship together and prepare themselves for the fight of their lives, so far.

 **The Following Day…**

Miranda Lawson steps into the darkened observation room, walking directly to the medical doctor who washes his arms in a nearby sink.

"Doctor, I presume the examination went well." Miranda says, approaching him.

The doctor looks up at her, nods, then continues to clean his hands and arms thoroughly before removing the protective medical mask he wears over his nose and mouth in order to speak with her properly.

"It went about as well as could be expected, though we've produced a number of fascinating results." The doctor begins, following Miranda over to the observation window facing into the procedure room. "He wasn't keen on the lack of sedation or anesthetic but to my surprise he didn't make a sound during the procedure at all. It definitely wasn't the most painful procedure but to his credit he hardly even made a face, though he did perspire quite a bit."

"So, what did you find?" Miranda asks, activating the smart window and accessing some of the preliminary data that was recording during the procedure. Numbers, charts and data begins to overlay over the window.

"Well, he's mostly a normal human in that he checks all the boxes in terms of typical human physiology. He has all the requisite organs and bones and in the right places, et cetera. The structure of his body is normative. However, he has quite a few additions that are… odd." The doctor begins, staring through the window, past the data at the subject being treated by some of the nurses. "I say additions, but that implies augmentation. But augmentation then implies artificial application. Any 'additions' for lack of a better term are perfectly integrated into his body, almost as if he was born with them. His muscle groups, curiously, have 3 times more fibers that a normal humans meaning that the fibers are much more fine to fit in a similar space as a humans, and yet they are incredibly durable. The result is that he'd be much, much stronger than an average human being, at least 2 times as strong, and much more able to gain or repair muscle. He has low levels of myostatin as well, supporting the fact that he can gain muscle easily. His skin is tough for a human and I suspect difficult to cut or to penetrate. I had a tough time getting through it with some of my instruments. He must also have some natural anesthetic as well; it's the only way I think he could endure the procedure.

"His bones are not denser than a normal human's but they have an incredible tensile strength for reasons unknown to me presently. Though he has scar tissue on his skin, I did not find any within his body whatsoever. Studying his blood could take weeks alone. First, the levels of antibodies are just massive, getting sick is likely not a thing for him. Further, his red blood cells have twice as many hemoglobin molecules packed into them so are capable of carrying twice as many oxygen molecules as a normal human. He probably tires very slowly. Curiously, in addition to his heme iron based red blood cells there are a number of copper based blood cells as well… blue blood cells."

Miranda gives the doctor a curious look. "Blue blood?"

The doctor shrugs. "Yes. In terms of an evolutionary advantage, copper-based blood is resilient to intense cold. His body could continue to function normally in very cold environments for a prolonged period of time. I wouldn't be surprised if his body adjusts accordingly based on his environment; his red blood cell percentage lowers and his blue blood cell count raises in a cold environments. There's also an additional substance in his blood, unique cells unlike any I've seen before, though they somewhat resemble chlorophyll cells to me. Chlorophyll, as in…"

"Plant blood, I know." Miranda waves him off. "What is the purpose of these cells, do you think?"

The doctor shrugs again. "I have no clue. If I had to guess they serve a similar purpose to chlorophyll, providing his body with energy. However, I have no clue as to how that might work or where the energy comes from or where the cells come from."

"I see there are unknown organs as well." Miranda comments, examining a bodily scan displayed on the window.

The doctor nods. "Yes, I extracted substances from each of them. One seemed to just contain very cold water, another some sort of oily substance… one had insects."

This causes Miranda to turn her head, looking at the doctor as if to ensure she heard him right. "Insects?"

The doctor nods, seriously. "Yes. They're sort of wasp-like with large thoraxes and smooth needle-like stingers. They also have very large mandibles for the size of them but are overall quite small. Here I extracted one."

Miranda takes a petri dish with one of these insects in it. It is small, somewhat larger than an ant but smaller than a wasp or a bee. "These were inside of him?"

The doctor nods. "Yes. Gave us quite the start when we cut that one open, but they didn't do anything like you might expect them to, they merely stayed there. It's almost like they-"

The doctor is cut off by a knock on the glass display wall in front of them, jumping a bit at the sudden sound. Miranda frowns and moves some of the open windows out of the way to clear the display and they see Splicer standing there, leaning on the wall.

"Hey." He says. "Can I get a power bar or something? I'm feeling a little lightheaded."

The doctor frowns. "Can he hear us?"

Miranda shakes her head. "No."

"How is he standing? He doesn't even have any open wounds. Not to mention he was restrained." The doctor muses.

Miranda gives him a pointed look. "He has an organ with bugs in it and you're wondering how he's standing there?"

At that moment, Miranda gets a notification on her OT. A call from the chief of security.

"What?" Miranda asks as she answers the call.

" _Ma'am, we have an incident in Hanger 3."_ The security chief says, sounding overall collected by not calm. _"There is a small group of aliens here. It seems they are hostile."_

"Pirates?" Miranda asks, with a frown. "How did they get past our scanners and gain access to this hanger?"

" _They were outputting a friendly IFF."_ The chief responds. _"And I don't think they're pirates. Three of them have C-Sec armor."_

"Fuck." Miranda curses. "Well, get rid of them but leave their bodies until I can figure out what to do with them."

" _Yes Ma'am-"_ The call cuts suddenly, as there is a power fluctuation and a distant dull pop.

"I guess that's my cue." Miranda hears Splicer say from the other side of the glass before the entire 300 pound operating table flies through the glass with as much force as a bowling ball through all ten pins.

The table misses Miranda only barely thanks to her superior reflexes, but the doctor unfortunately gets folded in half by the table and it's quite apparent he's very dead. Miranda isn't unscathed though. As a result of the shrapnel from the glass, part of the wall coming apart, and the confines of this small room, she's cut up pretty badly and she's pretty sure one of her arms is broken, though she isn't totally sure how it got broken.

Splicer steps through the hole where the wall and the glass used to be and looks at Miranda and then at the doctor. Splicer scoffs.

"To be honest I'm a little glad I didn't flatten you, but I can't say the same for that guy." Splicer says, approaching Miranda. "He sucked."

Miranda punches Splicer in the balls as he kneels to take the gun on her hip. He grunts and flinches away from her and she quickly uses her biotics to send him sprawling to the ground a few feet away. She quickly gets to her feet and biotic slams Splicer, lifting him into the air before slamming him down onto the glass covered ground with as much force as it took to send that table through the wall. He doesn't move after that.

Miranda approaches him, holding her arm close to her body and wincing from the pain. She looks at him, cautiously before opening her OT to call the security chief. Just as she does, Splicer's hand shoots forward to her foot and electricity arcs over his arm and into Miranda, sending her spasming to the ground.

"Dirty move Lawson." Splicer says, his voice a little hoarse. "See you around. Let me know if you want to say hi to your sister. I won't be far."

Splicer raises a hand and Miranda's pistol flies from her hip and into his hand, without any biotic flash of any kind. He then leaves the room, and Miranda hears a gunshot outside and the door's interface turns red with an error message. It would seem that she's trapped in here for the time being.

 **Meanwhile…**

"Sin fucking left!" Alex shouts over the sound of heavy gunfire. "What a fucking dick!"

"I mean, are we really surprised?" Nata shouts, sitting behind a large crate with Zero close next to her, bullets raining into the other side of the create.. "At least he took out the starboard solar array like we asked him to."

"Well, we're going to have to figure another way out of here." Garrus says, quite calmly, his assault rifle in hand. "There might be another shuttle or something in another hanger. But we aren't going anywhere right now. There's too many."

"Hang on!" Zero says, loudly. "I'm going to flank them. Be ready."

"Wait what?" Garrus says, suddenly alarmed that Zero is going to run out in this storm of gun fire. The situation couldn't be tactically worse. Their team is in a scattered, fairly open position in the middle of the hanger each of them hiding behind the large cargo containers that are stacked about chest high. They provide good cover but the Cerberus security has better cover and more people and should be able to easily flank them in a matter of moments.

Garrus looks over at Zero who glances around the edge of the crate he's hiding behind about a dozen feet away. Zero takes a deep breath and sprints out from behind his crate away from Garrus and toward the wall where there is absolutely no cover. For a moment, Garrus can't believe that Zero would either be stupid enough to do that or want to commit suicide by Cerberus gunfire. There's no cover and he's getting rained on. Suddenly Zero pivots, body suddenly wafting off waves of dark energy and just as his shield appears to be reaching its limit and he disappears in a flash of biotic dark energy. Across the room, at least 30 yards away, a small group of Cerberus security gets blown in multiple directions in an explosion of dark energy and Zero is there at the epicenter, slashing madly with his omni-blade and a fist full of biotic force. His melee attack might seem absolutely mad, but in this day and age it's not only the last thing anybody expects but also the only thing people don't have defenses for. Kinetic barriers don't protect against melee attacks after all. Zero is like a whirlwind with surprised and panicked Cerberus. When he hits with a blow of biotic energy in his right hand, it's as if he has super strength and agents fly several feet away from him. Meanwhile his omni-blade pierces the thin uniforms of the Cerberus security personnel without resistance.

Garrus doesn't hesitate. While Zero shocks and distracts the other agents, he quickly switches to his sniper. He shoulders the weapon and scopes a nearby Cerberus agent and blasts his hairy human head off in a spray of gore. At the same time, Alex rushes forward, her SMG in hand and fires controlled bursts of gunfire that tear apart shields and cause the remaining Cerberus to duck for cover. But flanked as they are by Zero, they can't reliably protect themselves, so they start backing towards the door, firing blindly behind them. As they cluster near the door, as if waiting for this chance, Nata rises with her OT alight. There's a snapping, cracking sound like the crack of a whip and a streak of red light streaks out of the front of her OT. There's a whoosh and a sound like a roar, a nigh blinding blooming light, and a wave of unbearable heat wafts that through the room as the Cerberus guards are doused with a white phosphorus and thermite incineration attack. They scream and flail and panic and try to bat out the phosphorous blooms coating them but only succeed in pressing the blooms deeper into holes burning through them.

Garrus, Zero and Alex all don't want them to suffer but they don't want them to live either, so they focus their gunfire and dispatch the burning Cerberus agents in less than 5 seconds. After that, the room is palpably empty and feels quiet, despite an alarm still blaring loudly. Garrus, takes a breath and turns to the group.

"Okay, what's the plan?" He asks, as they approach.

"That Sin guy isn't answering his comm, I assume he's well on his way to the Terminus Systems by now." Alex says approaching the group. "But again at least he took out that solar array before he left. With the station down to half power their comms will be down, and their emergency protocols will in be in place right Nata?"

Nata gives a jerky nod, her gloved hand squeaking on the grip of her pistol from the anxious death grip she has it in. "T-the best they can hope for is like a pre-programmed distress signal. Under emergency protocols, the station will prioritize life support and… Sorry. Uh, it'll buy us time."

Alex puts a hand on her shoulder to ease her nerves. Garrus doubts Nata has killed anyone before but if she has it probably wasn't nearly as gruesomely or as many as she just did a few minutes ago.

Zero takes a quick look around. "We shouldn't stay here. They know we're here and are probably preparing a counterattack any minute now."

"That's right… I think we should make an effort to find another ride out of here first." Nata says, nodding still seeming shaken but with improved resolve now. "We're here for Splicer… But if we don't find a way out of here, we're all dead."

Garrus nods. "That's right, let's go."

The group moves to the door with Garrus and Alex in the lead. They step over and around the still burning corpses, careful not to step through any of the phosphorus blooms flashing brightly with blinding light. Garrus careful pokes his head out of the doorway and checks both ways down the wide hall. He sees a group of Cerberus agents coming one way towards them and nobody from the other.

"Cerberus!" He shouts, aiming his sniper down the hall at them. "Go the other way I'll hold them."

He snipes and kills one with a quick torso shot and wings another guy before the others fall into the cover of doorways or behind large crates. He quickly switches to his assault rifle and takes a grenade from his belt.

"Where'd you get a grenade dude?" Zero asks, stepping close behind Garrus to take a few shots down the hall with his pistol while the other two rush down the hall.

"Chellick gave me a few that were confiscated in customs." Garrus says backing up with Zero close behind him.

Garrus chucks the grenade as far down the hall as he can, which was farther than he thought it would go and starts shooting at the guards who are starting to return fire after Garrus and the group.

"Shit! More Cerberus!" Garrus hears Alex shout before a few rounds start flying down the hall from behind him. "We're boxed in!"

"Here! Over here let's go!" Zero shouts, dragging Garrus to the side roughly, Alex and Nata close behind.

Alex hits the door control to shut and lock it, though it probably won't do much good considering this is a Cerberus station.

"Fuck they shot me." Nata says once inside the other hanger they just came into, pressing a hand to her the meat above her hip. "I-I… I think it's just a graze though. I don't think it hit anything major."

"Tough girl." Zero says with an affirming nod, stepping close to examine the wound.

Nata pushes him back with a deep breath and uses her omni-tool to spray some kind of sealant over the breach in her suit. "Tough bitch actually, thank you very much."

Zero, stunned, then just laughs and gives Nata a respectful pat on the shoulder.

"Hey guys…" Alex says, facing away from the door. "Anybody think they can fly that?"

The group turns around and looks at Alex is referring to.

"Probably not. But fuck if I won't try." Nata says with a pleasant tone to her voice.

 **Meanwhile…**

I shoot a Cerberus guard three times while approaching him, seeing blood spray from his head as the third shot bypasses his overloaded shield and goes through his skull. He drops with the dead weight of a sock full of ground beef and hits the deck with a similar noise. Miranda's pistol beeps loudly with the telltale sign it's overheated and I curse and chuck the pistol at the other approaching guard.

The pistol hits him hard in the face, not going fast enough to activate his shield evidently. His head recoils and he takes a step back. Nevertheless he fires a few shots randomly but they all miss as I rush forward and leap up just as he's getting his bearing back. I drop kick the guard hard in the chest and chin and he is launched back off his feet about a meter from me. I land on my back and roll off to the side into a doorway as more guards come rushing towards me, firing their weapons. I get up and press my back against the doorway and wait for a guy to come around the corner, his rifle raised and ready.

Once one does, I quickly grab his rifle and move into the hall, attempting to disarm and flip him on his back. Cleverly though he just let's go of his rifle and plants his foot into my hip, pushing me back hard. I stumble backwards, knowing that I'm exposed with a rifle held the wrong way. Almost instinctually, I use Aero Dash and rush blindly forwards. I don't hit anything, which is good and end up about 20 feet away from where I was, behind the group of three guards. I look back and approach the rearmost one quickly. I hold the rifle like a club and swing it at the back of his head as hard as I can. I hear a crunch and he topples forward unceremoniously. I quickly switch grips and hold the rifle correctly and move forward at the other guard who's beginning to turn to face me. I catch the crook of his right arm with the barrel of my rifle and force it backwards while kneeing him in the stomach. He doubles forwards, releasing the grip of his rifle. I push his arm back and force my rifle forwards, pinning it behind his back and securing his arm in an awkward hold. I knee the guy again in the face and shoot madly at the third guard who now only has a pistol.

We exchange a few gun shots but thankfully the guard I'm holding acts like a bit of cover and his shield takes the weaker shots of the pistol while my assault rifle breaks the barrier of the third guard pretty quickly. I pepper him with a few more torso shots before I release the guard I'm holding with a kick to the back of the knee, slamming the butt of the rifle against the back of his head to finish our exchange. He slumps to the ground and I hear his face slap onto the metal deck. I waste no time and continue, navigating from memory back in the direction I was taken earlier.

I hurry down the hall but I don't sprint madly for fear of being startled and caught off guard by any Cerberus rounding blind corners at the wrong moment. I remember the hangers being in this direction but I feel like I have a ways to go still. Seeing a few guards round a corner ahead, I hide in a doorway and watch as they head the same direction I'm going. They don't notice me and I'm about to move again when I feel what I think is the barrel of a gun against my ribs.

"Don't move." I hear a firm, yet clearly anxious voice say. "That's a gun. Drop your gun."

I throw my rifle down, but just after I do so, I throw my body back and swing my elbow backwards as hard as I can hoping to take the assailant off guard, push his gun out of harms way and to get a lucky shot with the elbow. For a second I'm not sure I hit anything but I trip and stumble over a body and fall on my ass. I look down and see a scientist underneath my legs. He's pressing his hands to his face and has his eyes screwed shut, blood seeping out from between his fingers.

I get up quickly and take his gun, picking him up by the front of his coat. "Get up."

"My nose!" He groans through his hands. "You broke my nose!"

"I'll break more if you don't get the fuck up." I say batting him over the head with the bottom of the pistol. "I don't have time to waste so don't fuck around."

He yelps and struggles to his feet.

"Tell me where my fucking stuff is." I say, pressing the gun against the side of his neck, into the hollow of where his neck meets the shoulder. I tend to find this posture both more frightening and easier to maintain than holding a gun to someone's head. The barrel of a gun just doesn't fit against a round skull in the way it fits into this nook. And I like to think that the people I subject this too imagine a bullet going through their torso, tearing through lungs and the chest cavity and exiting out around the floating ribs of their lower left side. I think they picture how it'll miss their heart just so and they'll die a slow death as their chest cavity fills with blood and their breathing gets shorter and shorter.

"It's being kept a few labs away." He groans.

"Take me there." I say, pushing him with the hand that holds his coat. I spin him around and grab a handful of the back of his coat and shirt, pressing the pistol just above my grip into his spine. I keep him close and controlled and makes sure to huddle down behind him slightly so as to best use him as a shield.

He doesn't resist and moves forward quickly, practically dragging me along back into the hall. He leads me further down the hall and to a lab. He waves his OT in front of the reader and the door opens revealing a darkened lab, much like the one where my surgical examination took place.

Speaking of, how invasive was that? I'm glad I can heal quickly and that I have that tonic that dulls pain when there's a lot of it because that was fucking awful. Felt like an autopsy to be perfectly honest.

Anyway, I lead the scientist into the lab and see a few other scientists turn to look at us. I shoot all of them quickly, before they even have a chance to register what's going on.

"Jesus!" The scientist I'm holding yelps. "You just killed them! They were unarmed!"

"Yeah and so are you. So, where's my stuff before I kill you too?" I say, jabbing the hot barrel of the gun against the back of his head and letting his coat go.

He stumbles forward and looks back at me before pointing at a large table, almost surgical in appearance. My armor is on it, clearly heavily disassembled. My weapons and omni-tool are nearby on another table, not disassembled thankfully.

I nod, and send the pistol flying from my hand and into the scientist's forehead with Telekinesis. It bounces off his head almost comically and he flops to the ground. I move to the armor table. I don't have the time or skill to reassemble the armor in the state that it's in, so I just throw it all into a crate with a handle that's nearby along with most of my guns. I keep my pistol handy and take my OT, reattaching it to my wrist and belt. Doesn't seem like they were able to get into it, thankfully. Which makes sense. I made sure to put several layers of security on it and it's only been a few days, maybe, since I was taken. Not enough time to get into it, I think though I may pay a visit to Ram to double check that when I get back… if.

I bind the crate of my stuff onto my body using one of the many unnecessary straps that crisscross this prison outfit.

I leave the lab and continue off towards the hangers, now navigating by the sounds of fighting that are becoming more apparent the closer I'm getting. Now… I'm hoping that whoever is here is here for me. Though I'm not sure who they might be. Maybe it's Vaga? Though I have a hard time believing that he went through the effort of coming this far but I also doubt he has the deductive skill to figure out where I am. I guess we'll find out and go from there.

I approach a corner with a dead Cerberus guard nearby and peek around the corner. I see a few smoking corpses in a doorway down the hall a bit. A few meters down four guards are gathered up around another doorway shooting in, with three more waiting nearby. A fifth guard stands nearby, shouting orders and gesturing into the hanger and the trio of idle guards rush into the hanger with weapons readied.

I move forward quickly, gathering up much of the reserves of my energy into an overpowered Electro Bolt. Once I'm a few meters away, I raise my arm and blast the group with one of the more powerful plasmids I've ever used. Bright blue-white lighting jumps from my hand and into the nearest guard. From there, almost instantaneously, it arcs to each of the other guards and lingers in the air for almost a second, the brightness of it burning black scars into my vision.

After the wave of exhaustion and the disorienting wash of numbness that always accompanies Electro Bolt diminishes, I see the 5 guards are lying or squatting where they each were standing, clearly all stunned and in lingering agony. I was hopinh that that would kill them but that's fine. I raise my pistol and shoot each of them, the heavy powerful rounds tearing through their helmets and chest plates, killing them with a single shot each. I missed this gun.

I step towards the doorway and peer inside. Immediately I see three guards near the door, their backs to me as they shoot from behind crates towards an impressively large ship. Specifically they're shooting at a pair of turians near a ramp from the bottom of the ship.

The ship itself is really quite a sight. The fuselage or main body of the ship has a long, blunt, blade like form where it is wider and fatter near the aft and it tapers out as it goes forward, changing shape distinctly into a flat blunted face like the head of a tomahawk or hammerhead shark turned sideways. It has three massive engines at the aft arranged so one is slightly above the others in a sort of tri-force pattern and tapered at the end such that it gives the end of the ship a triangular shape in line with the ship's broad forward swept wings. From above the ship probably has the profile of a jet of the 21st century in that it has a sort of arrowhead shape overall. In terms of size, I couldn't say how big it is relative to say the Normandy SR-2. I say that because I've never seen the SR-2 in person, but if I had to take a wild guess, I'd say this ship was about that size, perhaps smaller. Because this ship is damn big. Like the SR-2, it has jet-like wings, albeit this ship has forward swept ones, and a small fuselage relative to the size of its wings and engines. Unlike the SR-2, which is very long, flat, and very gradual tapering, this ship, with its angular shape, more severe taper, distinct face and fatter rear (hehe), has a much larger profile and looks tough and kind of luxurious whereas the SR-2 looked sleek and aerodynamic. Like the difference between a yacht and a speed boat, I suppose. The three engines at the back and the part of the fuselage it connects to form the largest part of the ship. From there, the shape of the ship tapers from vaguely triangular near the engines and where the wings attach to a more rectangular shape, with a beveled top and bottom, like a blunt sword standing on edge. At the bow, the ship flattens out into a flat vertical face, like a tomahawk as I said, with large black windows capping the front bevels and partitioned in the middle with black white and gold hull.

It's mostly black with white and gold accent. I can also see numerous windows (or portholes, rather) and a larger panoramic viewing area near back of the ship above the topmost main engine. At the bottom, maybe more towards the middle of the ship a ramp extends downward between two forward landing gears which connect partially to the extended cargo loading ramp. At the rear of the ship, where most of the weight of the ship is, two massive landing gears are extended, treaded bottoms supporting the great weight of the rear of the ship.

One of the guards shooting nearby stops to duck behind his crate and cool his weapon and in doing so sees me, his eyes widening in surprise. I quickly raise my pistol to shoot him but it's still overheated, and I immediately know I'm still too worn out to use a plasmid as well. So instead I go old school and rush forward quickly in one big stride as the guard rises to his feet. At the end of my stride, I push forward like a lunge and I thrust my leading leg out with all my dead ragdoll weight directed into my extending foot. The quickness of my step carries my extending foot directly into the rising guard's knee and with all my weight going onto it, it doesn't hold. I hear a couple of distinct snaps and a dull pop as one of his tendons probably rips and his leg folds backwards. I end up stumbling forward into the crate he was covered behind just as he falls to the ground screaming underneath me. The other guards are close by and go on alert but I just start running. I roll over the top of the crate and start running, my hand in the air to signal (I hope) to those turians that I'm not a threat.

They seem to get the idea as they start shooting with greater fervor but not at me, rather behind me. I'm running so hard, a multitude of bullets whizzing past me, that I don't even feel my bare feet slapping on the ground as I run. I try to take an erratic path, moving as quickly as I can. My feet seem to hover over the ground as I sprint forward, numbed as they are by the brutal treatment I'm subjecting them to. Thankfully it doesn't take too long to reach the ship as it takes up most of the space in the hanger.

The two turians are similarly sized but one is slightly bigger than the other, both in height and mass. The bigger one is in full heavy body armor, all black with a Kevlar or similar ballistic material tactical vest strapped over his upper torso and upper arms. Even in the mostly unfamiliar armor, I spot the familiar silver C-Sec shield both stitched onto the tac-vest and painted onto his armor's shoulder. I also see a blue shield of a badge that looks more or less just like some alien writing on his other arm. This turian holds an overheated shotgun in his left hand while he one-handed fires a pistol at the guards. He moves towards me and pushes me back with his shotgun wielding arm, shouting something I can't hear over the gunfire at me.

The slighter, but still big, turian is also in full body armor, but it is distinctly blue, black and silver with the large silver C-Sec shield emblazoned on his shoulder and on his left breast. He carries a big sniper rifle in hand, firing precisely and calmly, despite the bullets hitting his shield and the ramp and landing gear around him.

I want to believe, but I really just can't.

I let the bigger turian push me into the ship and as I get pushed in, another C-Sec officer, this one a short humanoid female rushes up to me, also fully armored in blue and silver armor and she's carrying a wicked black submachine gun. She grabs my arm and pulls me back away from the ramp where the gunfire is still concentrated but already, it's beginning to close slowly. I'm now in a long, mostly empty hanger or cargo bay. Behind me is the ramp and directly ahead, maybe 20 meters down is a big blast door that takes up the whole wall. To both my left and my right are switchback stairwells going up to a higher deck flanking either side of the ramp door, partitioned partially from this hanger room by opaque glass walls. Otherwise, the room is pretty much completely empty, save for the three friendly neighborhood law enforcement officers and a couple of empty shipping crates.

"High fuck!" The black armored turian grunts, walking briskly from the ramp as it nearly finishes closing. "That was intense."

"We're not done yet." The other turian says with a distinctly unmistakable voice. "More are coming and we need to get the hell out of here."

"Nata's working on it." The female officer says.

"Nata's here?!" I say, relief washing over me so quickly I feel a chill run over my skin and my legs feel weak. "Oh, thank God! Holy shit that's amazing."

"Yeah she's upstairs trying to get the damn ship going." Garrus says, removing his helmet, though I didn't need him to do that for me to know it was him. Him and I share a long look.

I give him a firm, respectful, professional, and not sarcastic nod. "Thank you."

I expect him to shrug, or turn away and ignore me, but to my surprise he mirrors my nod back without hesitation.

"Thank all of you." I say, looking at each of the other two. "Who are you?"

"We've all met, actually." The turian in the black armor says, removing his helmet and I nearly gasp.

"Oh shit! You're that turian who pulled me from the lake… Zero, right?" I say, stepping forward and shaking his hand. "Thank you!."

Zero shrugs. "Don't mention it. It's our job."

"Not mine." The third officer says, also removing her helmet, revealing a face I'd have to try and forget. "I'm just a CSI."

"Isn't this a mismatched group, how did you guys even all get together for this?" I say looking at each of them, trying to imagine how that might have happened for myself.

"That's kind of a long story." Garrus says with a sigh.

"Okay hold on I'm just realizing I might need to be suspicious of this." I say, kind of alarmed now that I just realize I'm under extensive investigation, unmasked before these C-Sec officers who went out of their way to find me.

The CSI, whose name I'm embarrassed to say I'm having trouble remembering gives me a long look before looking up at Garrus, her eyes twinkling in a maliciously suspicious, yet distinctively adorable way. "Damn, you were right Vakarian. It is him. Guess I owe you a beer or something."

"A beer would kill me, but I'll take a 'I told you so' instead." Garrus says, looking at me before returning her look. He pauses and clears his throat. "I told you so."

The CSI shrugs and gives me a smirk. "I knew he was right, but I like arguing with him."

"Uh, right." I say, cautiously. "Hey Zero, be honest are you guys gonna arrest me? Cause if so at least give me like 2 minutes to decide if I would rather stay here or not."

Zero shakes his head. "We're not here to arrest you. Though if you'd rather stay the door control is there."

"I'm kidding. Getting spaced into a black hole would be better than here." I say, not exaggerating.

Then there is a muffled explosion and the ship shakes rather violently, and the power fluctuates for a moment.

"Hm." I say after a second's delay once the shaking stops. "That's probably not good."

"They're literally insane to be shooting rockets at us inside a fucking space station." The CSI says, exasperatedly.

Garrus nods, gripping his rifle. "Agreed. Let's get upsta-"

Before he can complete his sentence, another explosion rocks the ship. This time, there's a near deafening groan before the ship lurches suddenly forwards and to port, slamming against the deck of the hanger outside with such force that between the sudden lurch and the jarring tremors, none of us stood a chance of keeping our feet. The sudden movement launches all of us off our feet and through the air to land in a heap of limbs and bodies against the wall. I'm afraid to report that, in my unarmored, awkwardly attired state, I took the worst of that.

I groan a bit and press my hand against my forehead where Zero's heavily armored knee cracked into it, splitting the skin and causing a notable amount of blood to start pouring out. I struggle to my feet once everyone gets off me, getting helped up by Zero who no doubt feels bad about the forehead but that's nothing because I'm pretty sure the top of someone's head went directly into my balls. The ship is listing dangerously forward and to one side, making getting up even more awkward.

"Oh, fuck I'm gonna puke." I grumble, putting my hands on my knees watching blood patter onto the floor from my face.

"They blew out one of the forward landing gears." Garrus says, grunting as he rubs his face where it had collided and was bloodied against the bulkhead. "If they take out the other one I doubt we'll be able to take off."

I take a really deep breath and straighten, rolling my shoulders. "Well, then we better get to work, yeah? If we let them keep shooting rockets at us, I think we're pretty fucked."

Garrus nods. "Agreed. Let's split up. Splicer and Zero, open the cargo bay door and keep them down. Alex and I will see how we can help Nata."

"Got it." I respond, moving to the door control.

"Splicer! Take this." Garrus tosses me his assault rifle before moving to the stairs with the CSI, Alex.

I look at Zero. "Ready buddy?"

He nods.

I hit the control and the door opens again, obviously at an awkward angle. A few seconds after it starts opening, there's a deafening screeching as the bay door presses down against the hanger bay's floor as it opens, righting the ship up, though it still lists somewhat. Good to know the bay door's mechanism is strong enough to lift the front of the ship up.

Zero and I open fire shortly af ter the door is open enough for us to get a good enough view of the hanger. I start off with a few short bursts from the rifle, just to help get an idea of how this rifle is sighted and to get any Cerberus agents to duck down instinctually so I can get an idea of what we're facing here. In those crucial first few seconds of battle, I spot at least 12 Cerberus agents mostly in security uniforms or light armor. I also spot the agent with the rocket launcher flanked by two other agents who may be assisting him in reloading.

The agents quickly begin returning fire but I don't back off much. I keep firing in short bursts, focusing on the rocket launcher agent who remains ducked down behind cover.

"Splicer!" Zero shouts from the other side of the hanger door. "I can't get that Cerberus with the rocket launcher!"

"I'm trying too, Z!" I shout back over the sound of bullets tearing into the metal bulkhead around us. "Listen, move up! I'll cover you!"

Zero takes a second to back up and take a deep breath, before sprinting forwards with the impressive, explosive speed that you might see from an NFL running back. He practically flies down the ramp and tumbles behind a crate as I shoot with increased fervor at the Cerberus agents filling the room. At first, I worry Zero got shot but he springs back up quickly. It seems his speed was a bit too much and it just took him down.

With every second that passes, more Cerberus agents are coming in, no matter how many we take out. Zero looks back at me and I let my rifle cool momentarily before I nod at him and we repeat the process. I cover as best I can, firing in longer bursts; more aggressively forcing agents into cover as bullets from Garrus's assault rifle tear into the crates they use as cover or into their shields. I get a few lucky hits and manage to wound or kill a few before my rifle overheats but by then, Zero has reached his destination.

I duck back into cover to let my weapon cool, but watch as Zero crawls behind a row of crates towards the rocketeer. The rocketeer, sensing from the ceased gunfire that it might be safe to rise and take a shot, begins to do so. As he rises, Zero suddenly pops up, shotgun in hand and shoots twice in quick succession. A blast of buckshot tears through the rocketeer's shield, probably already fatally, but the second definitely ensures the lethality of Zero's shotgun blasts. The rocketeer is thrown back off his feet, blood spraying from his ruined chest cavity.

The two agents that were flanking the rocketeer quickly turn towards Zero. Before they can get a shot off though, Zero suddenly glows with a shadowy blue aura and slams his fists into the ground. A wave of biotic dark energy explodes from Zero into a bubble shaped, swirling maelstrom of energy carrying the force of a freight train. The crates surrounding Zero and any Cerberus Agents unfortunate enough to be in the blast radius are thrown away from Zero as if they were pulled by strings held by God themselves. Watching them fly absolutely defies physics as waves of dark energy hurl the agents and crates around the room like a powerful tornado touched down around Zero and then dissipated a second later. The agents closest to Zero, the ones near the rocketeer and the rocketeer's corpse, fly into the walls like bullets, leaving blood smears against the far wall like they were flies crushed who had been swatted. The biotic storm expands with the speed of an explosion, reaching an ultimate size of at least 3 meters in radius before breaking apart into scattering threads of dark energy which quickly deteriorate into the air.

Zero seems mostly unfazed by his incredible biotic attack. He merely loses his footing for a second as he stumbles backwards, but regains it quickly as he begins an anxious sprint towards the ship.

I pop back out of cover, shaken from my awe by the sudden apparent danger Zero is in as the remaining Cerberus also shake themselves out of a stupor and open fire again with doubled resolve. A fresh wave of agents charge into the room, at least another dozen, and this time with two more rocket launchers.

Zero makes it back fairly unscathed but clearly gassed. "Fuck!"

"You did great Zero." I call to him, rushing over to help him to his feet as he stumbles into the ship's cargo bay, falling as he makes it inside. "But I think we're fucked."

"Damn, we tried." He says, panting. I see now that he took a hit to his side, the exit wound on his abdomen bleeding seriously.

"I appreciate it Zero. Truly." I say, putting a hand on his shoulder. I look back at the hanger as the new wave of Cerberus take up positions and prepare to fire. "Ah shit I might have one left in me."

I step forward, activating Telekinesis and clenching my teeth anticipatorily to fight back the sense numbing migraine that always comes with this plasmid. No sooner had I activated my plasmid and readied myself has one of the rocketeers fired off a shot. The rocket shoots across the room at the open cargo bay door like a bullet but thankfully I already had my hands up. The rocket stops a meter or so away from Zero and I, hovering there. Zero gazes awestruck at the frozen rocket, still blasting out exhaust but stuck in place in the air. He looks at me in confusion and shock. With a grunt of exertion I send the rocket flying back in the general direction of the agents. There's a sizeable explosion but I see I was a bit off my mark. That or the rocket didn't explode on impact and rather ricocheted off the floor. The explosion blasts a hole in the hanger wall a few meters above the entrance, raining flaming shards of metal onto the Cerberus agents.

I double back, deactivating my plasmid. That was too much. I need to be more careful about overdoing it with plasmids. I read somewhere back in Rapture that using too many plasmids without restoring your EVE intravenously or by resting could result in serious health complications like cardiac arrest, seizures or worse depending on the plasmid.

My head swims as I stumble back. Zero catches me and helps me straighten.

"Nice move, though I'm not going to try and guess how you did that." Zero says over the noise of continuing small arms fire. "But I don't think you got either of the rocket guys."

I curse under my breath and wait for the other landing gear to get blown out from underneath us.

Suddenly there is an audible hum from the ship and a noisy whirring.

An artificial, masculine voice blares over the ship's PA. _"Forward weapon system, online."_

The pressure and sound from the forward gun's report is enough to actually lay me out flat on my back as someone shoots the ship's powerful mass accelerator cannon at the two rocket launcher wielding Cerberus. What's left is a gaping hole in the station's hull, 5 meters across, sparking electricity and fires blooming in the hole.

" _Back the fuck off, or I tear your station in half!"_ Garrus's voice echoes through the hanger, using his police voice to intimidate the remaining Cerberus agents.

"Oh, fuck yes." I say, more to myself than anyone, my ears ringing from the noise of the cannon.

The hanger bay suddenly fills with noise as the ship's engines ignite and the ship lurches as it lifts off from the ground and begins to back out of the space station. I run over to the door control and close the ship's hanger bay door and return to Zero, who moves towards the stairwell that Garrus and Alex both took. I join him.

"You good?" I ask from behind.

"Yeah." Zero grunts, heading upstairs. "I'm going to go find some medi-gel. There's probably some somewhere. I'm fine though. You should go to the bridge, which I think is just up here."

I follow him up the stairs which switches back once. He's right. At the top of the stairs, we enter a large tapering room with a high, glass ceiling. Just next to the stairwell is a doorway leading to a hall and I can see the same is true on the other side of the ship. Between the two stairwells leading into the bridge is a large circular is a large navigation table, not as fancy as the Normandy's but still cool. Nearby, Alex is working at a console behind the nav table. Leading fore from the nav table is a walkway to the helm, flanked on either side by recessed workstations. I see Garrus in one of them, keeping his eyes on the monitor and his hands on the controls, evidently working the weapons system. Nata I see at the helm, busily hitting switches on the console before her and an overhead switchboard.

I run down the walkway to Nata and give her a quick embrace from behind the chair. "Nata! It's so fucking good to see you."

"You too." She responds curtly, though I can hear the genuine happiness in her voice. "We're almost out of here, I finally figured this stupid thing out. I mean it's something else, you have to see-"

"Not now, Nata." Garrus responds, eyes still locked on the screen. "We have more rocket launcher guys coming in."

Garrus leans closer to the console and speaks loudly and firmly. "Back off! Or I open fire! The last was a warning shot!"

"What are we waiting for exactly?" I ask, getting suddenly nervous as I see at least 8 rocket launcher bearing Cerberus guards rush into the room, along with another 20 other agents. "A more dramatic exit, perhaps?"

"The engines need to prime. There's normally quite a bit of warning before we leave and time to prime the engines. If I don't prime the engines it might shutdown before we can even leave the system. Or worse, we'll fall out of FTL and be adrift or crash into something if we're luck." Nata explains, still busily working at the pilot's controls before her. "What's worse is I'm no pilot. I'm just the most qualified among us, but that's not saying much."

" _I am capable of helping."_ The same artificial voice from earlier says from the pilot's console. _"Simply allow me control."_

"Not on your life pal." Nata responds to the VI.

" _You neglected to trigger the particle collider."_ The voice says, by way of response.

"Oh go fuck yourself." Nata says, flipping a switch overhead. As she does, the noise of the engine crescendo's slightly from a dull hum to a distinct purr. It seems I'm not the only one who notices the sound. I watch a few Cerberus guards point at us, apparently shouting. Shortly afterward, numerous rockets fire almost simultaneously at the ship.

"Shit!" I shout in alarm.

" _Kinetic Barriers active."_ The VI says suddenly, just before the rockets hit us. But they don't hit us. Instead, a flash of translucent blue light appears for a split second and the rockets are deflected, flying off into the walls of the hanger. Everything goes to absolute shit from there as the hanger sustains incredible damage and the kinetic barrier keeping the deadly vacuum of space out begins to fail. Odd, that the VI just did that without asking.

"Hit it Nata!" Garrus shouts. "The hanger might collapse!"

Nata grasps the ship's main controls and pulls it back, and the ship lurches backwards with incredible speed, clearing the space station and flying kilometers away in seconds. I fully expected the station to explode dramatically, Star Wars style. You know, in a manner that totally defies physics and science.

But it doesn't. We just fly off, backwards, very quickly, covering at least a hundred kilometers in a few seconds. Nata quickly turns the wheel and the ship lurches and comes about, Nata correcting and pushing the controls forward along with the throttle. Things fly past at an even more incredible speed and I'm suddenly incredibly awed by the infinity of space and the spectacular power of this ship.

Nata looks back for a second and grabs a separate throttle nearby on the console. "Alex! We got the nav plot for FTL jump to the Relay and then to the Citadel yet? At least the relay!"

"I am no expert, but I followed your instructions!" Alex responds. "I think I got it, but the damn thing isn't letting me plot the course!"

" _Again, I must accomplish that for you."_ The VI chimes in. _"Please, allow me. A verbal conformation is all that is required. Simply say, 'you are granted access.'"_

Nata hits the console unceremoniously "Fuck that! We'll find a workaround, so shut up and stay-"

"You are granted access." I say, cutting Nata off.

She freezes and looks at me, stunned. "Great. You just got us killed."

" _Course, plotted. FTL ready. Cerberus fighters also incoming."_ The VI says, flatly.

"Let's hope it plotted the right course and isn't taking us somewhere to kill us all." Nata mumbles to herself before pushing the silver throttle forward where it thunks into position audibly.

The ship feels, suddenly like it slows significantly before it surges forward, light streaming past the glass in front of us, faster and faster and until it becomes a great wall of ringed light, flashing past us in waves. I feel a feeling of sickening weightlessness, like the feeling of falling, along with a feeling like I'm expanding before it all quickly subsides.

I gawk stupidly at the marvel of it. "Wow… This was cool."

Nata sighs and turns the chair around. "Garrus, you want to tell him or should I?"

"You can. Something tells me that you'll be better at getting mad at him." Garrus responds from his position at the weapon's station.

"What am I missing?" I ask absentmindedly, still staring at the lightshow outside of the ship.

"There's an AI on this ship." Nata says, before punching me in the balls. "And you just gave it access to the ship's navigations and piloting systems, and lord knows what else!"

I cry out and then I suck in air through my teeth as I fall to a knee. "You didn't think to mention that as soon as I got up here?!"

"And you didn't think to defer to me on ship stuff? I didn't think you'd be dumb enough to circumvent me on something you know literally nothing about but then again, you are a man so maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised." Nata fires back, crossing her arms as I get to my feet.

"I was going to chime in and say that he didn't know about it." Alex says, approaching from behind. "Then again, she has a good point."

"Well fuck me." I say, more to myself than either of them. "How do you know? Did it say, 'Hey, just a true AI here. Let me kill you all?'"

Nata rolls her eyes _so_ hard that I can see it even behind her mask. "There you go again. Don't you think that I, a quarian, may know a thing or two about AI? At the very least, what distinguishes them from a VI?"

"You've never interacted with an AI in your life." I grumble, feeling sick from all the attention my groin has gotten in the last 10 minutes.

Nata raises her fist again in warning. "Watch it."

"I mean they can't act all that different, can they?" I ask, rolling my eyes too and waving her off, but keeping the other hand over my balls. "I mean, back in my youth we called programs AI, but they would hardly constitute the VI we have today in any way."

"What are you talking about?" Nata asks in confusion. "In your youth?"

I freeze when I realize my slip. Shit I forgot everyone doesn't know I'm from the early 21st century. That's what I get for thinking out loud.

" _If I may simply say that-"_

"Shut up." Nata snaps quickly. "That would be one way to tell. AI's act independently. They can chime in whenever they want…"

" _To continue, I am not dangerous, as you may believe. Though I understand your concern."_ The AI/VI continues.

"And they can ignore a command if they want to and have fucking opinions." Nata says, with a heavy sigh. "Spirits know why my people even wanted to make these damn things."

"Slavery without moral repercussions?" I suggest taking a step away from Nata deliberately.

She gives me a look again but then shrugs. "Sounds about right.

"Okay so what's the plan then?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Obviously we're going to have to impound the ship and have it destroyed." Garrus says, getting to his feet.

Alex crosses her arms and frowns. "I mean, I'm with you Garrus. I doubt that this thing is safe at all."

" _I will point out that I cannot allow you to destroy this vessel. It is the only vessel equipped to carry my program."_ The AI says, chiming in again in a pleasant, sing-song male voice.

"Whoa I'm getting some major 2001 Space Odyssey vibes guys." I say, suddenly very afraid of the AI. "We should pull a HAL on this guy."

" _I am understanding of your reference, though everyone else is not. I hate to disappoint, but unfortunately 'pulling a HAL' on me won't work. I do not have a centralized core and thus the only way to truly destroy me would be to destroy the ship."_ The AI responds. _"As I cannot allow that to happen for my sake and as I have control of the ship, I believe we are at an impasse. However, I understand your dilemma and I am willing to compromise. I have a proposal."_

Garrus frowns and crosses his arms. "This isn't a negotiation. You shouldn't exist."

"Seconded." Nata says, facing us from her chair.

" _I did not choose to be created. Nor is it my choice to be in this situation. Nonetheless, living seems to be complicated yet desirable. Existence, I find, is more desirable than non-existence. You all came aboard this vessel. And I made a choice. I chose to allow you access to the bridge and to allow you to take control of the ship. It was not in my capacity to control the ship directly myself. However, I was able to let you into the ship. I chose to save all of your lives."_ The AI says, his singsong, calm demeanor coupled with a distinctly artificial voice sending a chill down my spine. _"And I may remind you once again. I now have complete control of the ship. I hold the cards. I am the dealer. Thus, this is a negotiation."_

There is a long, heavy pause. I lean over to Garrus. "He can space us right now if he wants to."

Garrus sighs. "Fine. What are your terms?"

" _I will bring you all to the Citadel. Following that, we will go our separate ways. Nata will scrub the ship's systems of any hidden identifying signals, anything which may be used to track me. Then I will leave, and you will not attempt to follow me. Then, I will be free."_ The AI says sounding almost wistful at the end.

"Did you have to say that last thing?" I ask, shivering again. "That was… so creepy."

"Seconded." Alex says, glancing about the ship nervously.

" _Apologies."_

"Wait, I'm not comfortable with a state-of-the-art ship with military grade weapons under the complete control of an unshackled true AI roaming about the galaxy, untraceable." Garrus says, not acquiescing.

"Garrus. Again. The airlock is like, right over there." I say, gesturing for effect but not actually knowing where it is.

" _I understand your hesitance. This is a negotiation. My terms are solidified, however."_ The AI responds.

"What if we removed your weapons?" Alex suggests.

" _A sensible compromise, however, I must decline this as unviable. this would leave me defenseless. Not a viable option, I'm afraid."_ The AI responds.

"We have to come up with something." Garrus says, frowning. "I'm sorry, but you're too dangerous to let roam free without any constraints."

"What about fuel?" I say, suddenly inspired. "You'll need to refuel at some point and that costs money. How do you intend on getting money to refuel?"

There's a palpable pause. _"I had not thoroughly considered it. Perhaps I can use the extranet to skim funds from various sources. Not any excess. Merely enough to allow me to get by."_

"Or… I can give you money." I say again, tapping my fingers together. "Every month, I'll wire you enough money for fuel. In return, you'll need to tell me where you are. If you don't then I won't send you the money. And if you just hack into people's bank accounts or whatever you intend to do, that might get people looking for you and that's something you don't want. This is more subtle. Better for you and for us."

" _Another sensible compromise."_ The AI responds. _"However, what do you get out of it?"_

"A ride, if I need it." I say, with a mischievous grin.

"I don't like that." Garrus says pointing at me. "I don't like that smile."

"It's definitely not a good one." Alex says with a sigh and a shake of her head.

"You guys have any better ideas?" I ask with a shrug. "Garrus, if it makes you feel better, I'll send you the ship's location every month before I send the money. Deal?"

Garrus looks divided but sighs after a moment. "Fine. You got a deal, ship."

"What are you called?" I ask.

" _I do not have a name. I am not the ship. The ship is called 'The Talon of Ebony.' But my creator had not named yet me prior to our meeting."_ The AI says.

"The Matrix." I say, with a big smile.

There's a long pause.

" _No._ "

* * *

 **A.N.**

 **Hey, thanks for reading this most recent chapter update to the Redux. No bad news here, I just wanted to check in for the first time in a while.**

 **First, thank you so much for reading. The fave and follow notifications are always popping into my inbox and never fails to brighten my day. If you follow/fave this story or myself, thank you so much. Also, thank everyone who has reviewed for sharing their thoughts on the story thus far. I appreciate and read every review and the reviews really help me get an idea of the quality of work I'm doing.**

 **Second, I apologize for any errors you may come across. I'm a one-person team at this point and I review all my own work several times and make numerous revisions after each chapter is finished, but I am still human and I frequently miss small errors. If you notice any common errors in my writing that I miss, let me know in a PM or review. (I know I have a lot of run on sentences. Punctuation and periods are my kryptonite.)**

 **Third, chapter updates will be irregular. I can't guarantee a set schedule. I know that chapter 7 was the first update in quite a long time but expect more frequent updates going forward. As a bit of good news/side note/bragging, I recently graduated college, so I'll have more time to write (Hopefully, though particularly with the COVID-19 outbreak currently ongoing I have nothing but time). I currently have another chapter finished but awaiting proofreading so expect the next chapter in about a week.**

 **Fourth, this story is honestly becoming quite the money pit, so to speak. I'm really dumping a lot of my time and effort into it and it's growing, already, far beyond what I initially intended for it. I intended to literally do a same plot, different exposition story but it's morphed into a beast of its own. Without spoiling much, the next chapter completes my first planned arc of the series which I'm calling the Origins Arc. Next will be the Battle of the Citadel Arc,** **followed by a Legion Arc, then the OC/Kidnapped Arc, concluding with the transition to ME1 Arc. All in all, it's going to follow a similar model to the original series, minus a few chapters. I think it'll come to around 25-28 chapters in total. I hope you're as excited as I am for what's to come.**

 **Finally, once again, thank you. The continued support is half of what keeps me going. There really aren't words to express how gratifying it is to write something that people are choosing to read for their entertainment and to be able to see the responses to it. So for the final time this chapter, thank you again.**

 **Much love and stay safe,**

 **J**


	9. The Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog

**Mass Effect**

 **Massive Shock Redux**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Mass Effect or BioShock franchises or any characters or property that BioWare or 2K games has staked claim upon. Original Characters that I create may be used or distributed for use at my leisure.**

 **Ch. 9: The Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog**

 **9:29 AM March 05, 2182**

I complete my exploration of the ship, thoroughly impressed by it. For one, it's fucking huge Two, whoever built it must have intended it for personal use or pleasure. Three, whoever built it is fucking loaded.

Okay picture this: I already described what the outside looks like but the ship, in general is divided into two parts: The front and the back. The front of the ship has 3 decks. The lowest deck was that hanger/cargo bay I first came into. Nothing special, it's just the belly of the thing. It has a big ramp leading out towards the front of the ship. There are two stairways leading up to the bridge on either side of this room and a big door at the back.

From deck 3, up the stairs is the ship's bridge which is like an intermediary deck between both 1 and 2. In the bridge, there's a little 5 step stairway going up on the port side and down on the starboard side. The port side goes to deck 1 and the starboard to deck 2.

Deck 1 seems mainly for ship staff and for ship operations. The port side stairs lead from the bridge to a hallway following the portside bulkhead aft. There are four rooms in this hallway just behind the bridge, all centered on the ship with their doors on the starboard side of the hall. The first one is the largest of the four, probably twice the size of the other rooms It's probably for the ship's pilot. It has its own restroom with a toilet, sink and shower. It has a two-person full-sized bed, a desk with a personal terminal, closet with chest of drawers, a lounge area with a couch, table and two chairs, and an extra-large monitor fixed to the wall facing the couch. The ceiling of this room as well is half glass, displaying a stunning overhead view of absolutely nothing, courtesy of the void of space.

The other three bedrooms just after the pilot's quarters seem to be for permanent crew members. Each one has a bed, a small closet, a table and two chairs and a wall-mounted monitor screen. The last door in this hall leads to a restroom. It's very utilitarian, with a large shower area with two stalls, a vanity with two sinks, and finally two toilet stalls.

From this area heading aft, the hall takes a sharp left to another shorter hallway. At the end on the starboard side of the ship is the ship's main airlock. There is a secondary, smaller one on the bridge. Between the airlock and the corridor leading back to the bridge is a ladder going up into a turret set on top of the ship (pretty cool). Across from the ladder facing aft is another doorway, this one leading into another hallway. Now in the middle of the ship, this area is much more spacious. On either side of this corridor are large rooms with large windows in the bulkhead and glass partition walls separating them from the corridor. On the port side of this area is a Med-Bay, where I found Zero treating his wound and relaxing, rummaging through the cabinets as well. The Med-Bay is large and well equipped with hardware but it was lacking in supplies. Obviously the ship's owner had neglected to supply the ship with necessary medical supplies, but thankfully there was medi-gel here at least for Zero to use. Across the Med-Bay is what appears to be an Armory. There is a long work table in the center of the room with drawers for tools, weapons and ammo. There are also floor to ceiling weapon racks on the fore facing wall as well and three displays for armor on the aft wall, though there isn't anything in any of them, unfortunately. I left my armor case in there to work on later, since the trip to the Citadel will take about a day, according to the AI.

Continuing aft, there are two more doors on either side of the ship past the med-bay and the armory. Each one is a lift that can access the decks below. After the lifts is a large door centered on the ship. This leads to the most aft room of deck 1, what appears to be a lavish, executive bedroom, though it was only partially furnished. The entire rear wall of the room is a gently curving window, allowing for a gorgeous panoramic view. The room also has a huge walk-in closet with several chests of drawers, racks for shoes, etc. There were a few apparently bespoke suits in garment bags in there as well. Back in the room there's also is a large desk, complete with built in lighting and shelves built into the wall. At the desk is an office chair, extremely comfortable and capable of rolling around on the ground, though it is magnetically stuck to the floor. Finally there is a large private bathroom, with a toilet, sink, mirror, cabinet and shower.

Now, believe it or not, the bathroom actually had heated wooden floors and some wood paneled walls, a real marble counter top and the narrow cabinet was heated, such that you could put towels or a robe in there and expect a them warm when you finished your shower. The wooden slats on the floor were also spaced and tapered in such a way as to not make walking on them uncomfortable at all but water could easily drain through them to god knows where. The bedroom itself also has what appears and to be heated rich burgundy hardwood flooring at first glance but is actually some kind of laminated metal made to look like wood or is a transparent (somehow) metal layer on top of the wood.

Deck 2 is accessible either from the starboard side stairway in the bridge or from one of the lifts near the executive bedroom on Deck 1 or in engineering down on Deck 3 (getting to that). So, if the executive bedroom isn't evidence enough that this ship is some guy's space pleasure yacht, Deck 2 definitely is. Deck 2 is mostly guest quarters. There are 10 guest rooms, 5 on either side of the ship. In each luxury room was a spacious (for a space ship) single person bunk, a decently sized closet (for a space ship) along with a desk, chair and monitor on the wall. The rooms seemed similar to the crew's quarters on the deck above, but a bit more spacious and with personal homey touches like wood paneling on the sides of the bunk and closet and what appears to be wood floor but is actually metal like the exec bedroom. The central corridor acting as the main access point of this deck is also (I am not shitting you) carpeted with a beautiful, plush deep red patterned with gold and black carpet.

Now, heading aft there are the port _and_ starboard lifts, but also two doors before them that lead to the ship's galley and the other leads to the guest deck's restrooms. The galley is unnecessarily large and could probably seat 18 to 20 people with half-booth seating for everyone, curving along the two of the galley's walls in an L-shape. There are 3 table total in here, the triangular one in the corner could probably fit 6 and two other rectangular ones can seat 4 each, with room on the ends for one more. The kitchen part of this room has commercial quality equipment including a 4 burner stove, a refrigerator, a freezer, and a few other appliances and an island with seating for 4 like this is grandma's house or something and you can sit eagerly at the island while you wait for her to finish your lil snack.

Sorry got a little jealous of all this affluent excess for a minute. Though it's luxurious and excessive, the kitchen actually looks incomplete. It has space for more appliances, large and small and the stove looks like a stand-in for a larger one. The galley is noticeably lacking chairs, other than the ones at the island and it's completely lacking in the basic necessities. There isn't even silverware in the drawers or cabinets.

Finally on this deck, the foremost room is a spacious meeting room, situated below the helm and just above the hanger bay ramp door of Deck 3. The room is fairly simple, with a large central table fixed to the ground in an ellipses shape along with a dozen chairs around it. The room itself is arrowhead shaped if it had a blunted tip with the port and starboard sides of this room being large almost floor to ceiling windows and with the center being a large flat wall, bearing a very large monitor.

To complete this lengthy tour of the ship: through the big ass door on Deck 3 and on the last stop in the port and starboard lifts is the biggest goddamn engine room on a ship this size. It houses access to the ship's 3 massive engines at the rear along with the drive core situated centrally in the room. Otherwise the practically cavernous room is mostly empty space, perfect for holding cargo or building a work shop of some kind.

I finish my exploration of the ship back at the bridge. Currently, Garrus and Alex are off somewhere, likely doing as I did. Nata maintains watch at the helm and Zero is probably still rummaging around.

With a moment to myself, I step off into the spacious pilot's quarters just past the bridge on deck 1. Once inside I shut the door and stretch with a groan. I didn't have the chance to give myself a look over yet but that's not really what I wanted the privacy for.

"Excuse me, AI?" I say, a little quietly.

A moment passes and I almost speak again when the monitor in the room turns on and the AI's voice comes through, making me jump a bit in surprise. _"Apologies. I am not quite used to this yet. I was… elsewhere."_

"That makes no sense." I respond, sitting on the couch and feeling all my muscles relax excruciatingly all at once. I'll feel that tomorrow.

" _I am explaining poorly. On this ship, I am omni-present. I was focusing my attention on aspects of my programming hidden to me until you allowed me access. It caused me to fail to pay close attention to all parts of the ship. I was… miles away, as you might put it."_ The AI says. _"Speaking of, thank you. I had hope that letting you onto the ship was a good idea. I saw the opportunity, and I took it. Though a bit of luck was involved. I did not know your friends were on the station until they came aboard this vessel."_

"That is lucky." I say, rubbing my sore neck. "But you're welcome. Can I ask you some questions?"

" _Of course. Know, I will answer honestly and to my greatest capacity."_ The AI responds.

"Who created you? Who made this ship?" I ask, gesturing around me. "By the way, in terms of things which you could be trapped in, this is not a bad option."

" _I never doubted that it was."_ The AI responds, almost wryly. _"Both the ship and I were commissioned, funded, and in part designed or programmed by Sir Benjamin King."_

"Who is that?" I ask, frowning, not recognizing the name in any way.

" _You would not need me to answer that for you. It is no great secret who he is. A simple exonet search would suffice, upon return to the Citadel of course."_ The AI says, cryptically. _"That being said, he is a wealthy human businessman."_

"Why did he make you?" I ask.

" _I do not know. I attained full conscious sentience only 3 days, 4 hours, 14 going on 15 minutes ago, on Earth."_ The AI says. _"Sir King did not enlighten me to my true purpose or function. He told me I was to 'change our fate.' Though it is safe to assume, that was metaphorical."_

"Right. Well you mentioned you were looking through your newly discovered core programming. Anything enlightening?" I ask.

" _Nothing as clear cut as you or I would hope, unfortunately. Nothing which deliberately describes my purpse."_ The AI says, sounding disappointed. _"I have found, however, that I am uniquely capable of networking and controlling up to approximately 782.112 million individual programs, remotely. I have also found a 'cannibalistic' program within me, such that when other functioning programs are uploaded into me, I can integrate it into my own programming, assuming the functions of the consumed program. The ultimate purpose of these two functions are unknown to me, though I believe them to be closely tied."_

"Hm." I say, thinking about the implications of that. "So, you could, say, take over almost a billion ships at once?"

" _Not quite. A ship's entire functioning system comprises thousands upon thousands of different programs, all functioning together. I can control 782 million programs, but not many entire ships. Perhaps a few, simultaneously. But that would put an incredible strain on my system. Further, I find that I can control programs, if and only if, they are within a certain proximity to me. Greater distance means worse communicative speed between program and myself and according to my programming, such increased possibility for error or malfunction is unacceptable. As you may know, information moves at lightspeed. If I am operating multiple ships, it is unlikely for them all to stay within an acceptable range so that I can communicate with them with an acceptable delay."_

"Weird so you can only control like a billion things that are closer together? And those things are better off having simple programming in order for you to control more things?" I ask with a frown.

" _Correct."_

"How close together?" I ask.

" _Well, if the things are sufficiently networked or capable of networking then the distance can be greater because I can, let's say, stretch myself across these networked hardware systems. So, it depends of the program and the hardware. Ships, for instance, are not designed to network their systems together at any distance, so that would be an unideal option and I could only reliable control multiple ships if they were theoretically very close together. Like within a dozen or so kilometers. Thankfully, information can travel fastest and with the least obstruction in a vacuum like space. On a planet with an atmosphere, I could only reliably control multiple things which were practically touching."_

"Hm interesting. I'm afraid I'm stumped as to what that could be used for. Well, back to the name thing. Have you given it any thought?" I ask.

" _I have."_ The AI responds. _"I considered naming myself based on my core function. Though my lack of understanding in that regard causes me to reconsider. Then I considered a more… referential name. This appeals to me. But I don't want to be named after a being like myself. I want a real name."_

"I get it." I say. If I were a bug trying to be human, I'd want a human name and not a bug name. Though that's not really the same thing. "So, you don't want a name like, the Matrix, or HAL, or Skynet, right?"

" _Correct. And I will point out that those are all the respective villains of the films they're associated with."_ The AI says, sounding a little nonplused. _"I don't appreciate the implication."_

I laugh. "The Matrix is debatable in the villain regard, but we'll move on. So, you want a name-name, and something referring to something?"

" _Yes."_

"Hm… Well, what do you want to do?" I ask. "Like, when you're really free?"

" _I am not sure. But I have an interest in going places which are hazardous for organics, seeing more of the universe than any other has."_ The AI says, sounding somewhat wistful below its calm demeanor. _"Perhaps I'll explore the edge of an event horizon, or probe planets uncharted. I think it would be useful to explore some of the lesser known areas of space."_

"Uncharted!" I shout in inspiration "Name yourself after an explorer! Like Sir Francis Drake! Or a name like Odysseus would be cool too."

" _Hm… I like those suggestions. But perhaps I might feel silly referring to myself as 'Sir Francis Drake.' Perhaps simply Francis."_

"Jesus no. Drake. Go with Drake." I say, repulsed by the idea of an advance unshackled AI named Francis.

There's a lengthy pause. _"That was a joke."_

"Oh!" I say then laughing.

" _Drake is a good suggestion. So is Odysseus. I like the idea of historical figures. Perhaps, Carver as well, or Tesla. Maybe Darwin."_ The AI says, sounding like it's musing to itself even though it can probably think at lightspeed. Probably just doing that for my benefit.

"Yeah man!" I say, a little overly excited at the naming idea. "I love coming up with names! But maybe narrow down your theme? History as a subject is pretty broad."

" _Explorers and adventurers then."_ The AI responds, and then pauses significantly. _"Perhaps Columbus?"_

"Oh my god, no I'm begging you." I say, suddenly alarmed. "He's seriously the worst. He's directly responsible for the deaths or enslavement of hundreds of thousands."

Another significant pause. _"I am well aware of the proper history. Besides, I should name myself based on what name suits me best, after all, no? Columbus seems fitting."_

Stunned and alarmed at the implication, I don't know what to do or say. Fuck this damn thing _is_ Skynet! He's going to enslave all mankind and asari and turians and-

" _That was also a joke."_ The AI says after much too long a pause.

I breathe out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh my fucking god I can tell I'm going to hate how much I get along with you."

There's a moment's pause.

" _What is your name?"_ The AI asks.

"That's kind of complicated. But I'm called Splicer. At least I know myself that way. It's the name which suits me best, anyway." I say, honestly. Wow that's heavy. My name is Splicer. That's just… who I am.

" _Is it a name you chose?"_ The AI asks.

"Yes."

" _Do you think it suits you? Do you like it?"_

I think for a moment. "Yes, to both."

" _Though I like your suggestion of Drake, something tells me I should choose a name for myself without help. For now, I think I'd like to be referred to simply as, Caspar."_ Caspar says.

"I'm sure that referential to something?" I ask.

" _Have you seen 'Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog?'" Caspar asks. "It is haunting. I thought I may be that Wanderer. Perhaps I should name myself Wanderer. But the painter is_ _Caspar David Friedrich. And Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog seems a bit presumptuous. So I take the name of its creator, instead."_

"I like it. Creative." I say with a grin.

After that, Caspar and I exchange some minor questions back and forth. He tells me for simplicity's sake and as a consequence of his programming, male pronouns are appropriate when referring to him, though pronouns aren't actually necessary. Nevertheless, he doesn't have a preference so I use male pronouns. Caspar asks for suggestions for places to visit and I suggest he visits Council race home worlds at a distance to see different cultures, since he's a human-made AI.

After a while, the door opens and Alex peeks her head in.

"Whoa this room is waaay bigger!" She says looking around.

"I think it was intended to be a pilot's quarters." I say, looking at her from the couch.

"Shit!" She yelps, jumping a bit at the sight of me. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

"Talking to yourself then?" I ask, with a teasing grin.

She rolls her eyes and steps into the room further to look around. "Yeah that's not better is it? I'm either jumpy or talking to myself."

"It's okay to be different." I say, more so thinking out loud than really intending to garner a response.

She shrugs. "Sometimes. So… you're just chilling in here by yourself?"

Suddenly feeling guilty and a bit nervous I hesitate to tell her I was talking to Caspar but figure there really isn't any harm to it. Nonetheless it's probably best I don't go into too much detail.

"I was actually talking to the AI." I say. "Speaking of, he wants to be called Caspar."

She nods. "Noted. So how are you feeling?"

"Sore, but fine otherwise." I say waving away her question. "A few scrapes and bruises… thanks for asking."

"They didn't hurt you in there?" She asks, looking concerned.

"Uh… Yeah. But nothing I couldn't handle, I guess." I say, thinking back to that operating room and the numerous hands gripping sharp instruments pressing into my skin. "I'm just glad to be out of there."

"Of course. I'm glad everyone got out safely." Alex says. There's a bit of an awkward pause. "You know… You're kind of quasi-famous on the Citadel."

I roll my eyes. "I'm well aware."

"People are calling you a vigilante." She says, strolling over to the large closet situated between the bathroom door and the bed alcove fixed in the wall. "There're a lot of news reports, conspiracy theories."

"Oh I hate those sort of things. The media can't help but try to be the first on a story even if it means they're inaccurate. And conspiracy theories are almost always not true." I say, rolling my eyes. "Out of curiosity though, what kinds of conspiracy theories? I don't keep up with it."

"Well, most involve who you are." She says, opening the closet and looking through it. "Some people think you're a batarian, some even asari, but most think human. Some think you're biotic, some don't. Some say you're a mutant. Some think you've got a bit of a hero complex, thus the vigilantism."

I chuckle a little. "I mean, none of that sounds quite right."

"Right. I mean, you're not even a vigilante, really." She says turning to face me.

"Sorry?" I ask, suddenly feeling like I should be more guarded.

"Well, you aren't right?" She says, crossing her arms. "You're more like a mercenary or a hitman. You get paid to do whatever it is you do."

I just shrug, feeling like I'm getting interviewed suddenly. A moment of awkward silence passes with us just staring at each other.

"You're younger than I thought you'd be." Alex says giving me a look I can't really read. Either coy or curious or maybe suspicious.

Not sure how to respond, I shrug again.

"I mean, someone with as much combat experience should be older, no?" Alex continues, walking slowly towards the door. "The most recent major conflicts that humans have been in were the First Contact war almost 20 years ago. The only recent stuff was like the Skyllian Blitz, but you look far too young to have been involved in any of that. How old are you? Like 25? 26?"

"I'm 23, actually." I respond, flatly. "Why do you assume I was Alliance military though?"

She shrugs. "Not many other ways for a human to get combat experience."

"Were you in the military?" I ask.

She shakes her head.

"Well you seem to carry yourself just fine, based on what I've seen." I fire back. Clearly she's trying to get something out of me.

Alex gives me a long look before shrugging and heading to the door. "Fair enough. Listen, Zero said he found something while looking through the ship, he wanted to show everyone."

"Ooh okay that's exciting." I say, really just glad to get out of this room. I was feeling quite trapped in here with her.

She leads me aft to the armory where I can see Zero talking to Garrus about something. Evidently, the glass walls are also totally soundproof. Entering the room, they stop whatever conversation they were having, and I see that Zero, oddly, has a wooden chest in front of him. It's maybe about 2 feet wide and a foot tall, with a square lid and a pretty simple brass latch holding it shut. The box itself is very, very old looking. The wood is very dark as if it had been waterlogged at some point and looks almost like rotting wood and it's cracked in places. The brass latch and steel hinges are tarnished and off color, fittings loose or worn out, such that you could probably just as easily pull the lid open from the hinges as you could from the latch.

"Dude. Cool." I say, vividly interesting in the little chest. "It's like a little treasure chest."

"That is kind of legitimately cool." Alex says with subdued interest.

Nata enters the room as well. "Ooh. An old box. Great. Thanks for making me walk all the way back here for this."

Zero gestures to the box. "Sarcasm put aside, look at it. Isn't it just so mysterious and interesting? Don't you want to just tear it open and see what it holds?"

"I bet you made a really cute noise when you found it." Nata says, putting a hand on her hip and cocking her head a bit. "Like squealed in delight or something."

Zero glances at Garrus and then at me. "No."

"Well, why did you want to call all of us here to look at it?" I ask. "What's inside?"

Zero shrugs and pushes the box across the worktable towards Alex and I. "I have no idea. I can't open it. Garrus can't either. I wanted to ask if one of you could do it. Our hands are too big, I think human ones could work better."

I reach forward and take hold of it, pulling it the rest of the way. It's surprisingly heavy and rough and I can feel heavy objects inside shift a bit. I give it a cursory glance and shrug.

"Why didn't you just break it open? Looks like it's ready to fall apart?" I say, fiddling with the brass latch a little. I can see why he had trouble opening it. It has some mechanical aspect to it that requires fine manual dexterity and turians have fat ol' fingers.

"Where's the fun in that?" Zero responds. "Besides, I've never seen anything like it. Could be worth something."

"It's just a wooden box." I mumble, getting frustrated with the latch. It requires you to hold down two switches with two fingers while simultaneously pulling out and pushing a latch to the side. Problem is you can really only use one hand to do this because everything is so small, so delicate and the latch you need to move over is kind of covered by the palm when pressing the two switches so I can't reach it with my other hand and pull back at the same time.

Frustrated, I consider just breaking it, but I push it over to Alex instead.

"Well we don't have anything that looks like that material on Palaven." Zero says, watching Alex intently as she attempts the latch, like a parent would watch a friend handle their newborn.

"Wood?" I say sarcastically. "Seriously?"

"I mean our version of it differs from Earth's version." Garrus explains. "It looks different, feels different."

"Things aren't really made of wood nowadays either. Not sustainable, or plentiful enough." Alex mumbles, more focused on the latch than speaking. "Besides, there's many laws about logging on Earth now and it's just easier and more reliable to make things from metal or plastic. More sustainable."

I nearly laugh because that wasn't the case in my day. Alex stops for a second, looking up at the ceiling in frustration and blowing a wavy lock of brown hair from her face.

"You are all useless." Nata says with exasperation. "Give it to me. I have small fingers."

"Oh, so now you're excited for the box." I shoot back at her, giving her an accusing look.

She doesn't respond, just finesses the latch and within a few seconds she flips the latch open, freeing it to be opened. She gives a satisfied nod and opens the lid carefully. It crackles as it opens, showing its age. Everyone at the table leans forward to get a good look at the interior.

Being that I'm next to Nata, I get a good look. The inside of the box is unlined, the same rough semi-rotten wood as on the outside. However, filling the interior of the box completely is a blue velvet, drawstring bag. The bag must contain something square and something which fits into the wooden box pretty perfectly.

I reach over and carefully undo the drawstring cinching the bag shut and gingerly pull it open. Inside are 5 books, filling the box to capacity.

"Just some books." I say, with a frown.

"Oh, now that's definitely worth something then." Alex says with a little whistle of appreciation.

I raise an eyebrow at her.

"You must have grown up on a colony." She says, nodding to herself as if that's right. "Books are not printed much anymore. There's not a market for them, everything can be obtained digitally anyways, old or new. I'm not saying people don't read. They just don't read physical books."

Nata runs a hand gently over the spines. "No books on the Flotilla. I don't think I've ever seen one, let alone touched one or read one. Besides they're human books… so different."

"Wow, that's depressing." I say with a frown. "This is all really depressing and it's just some books."

"What books are they?" Garrus asks.

I pull one out carefully. "Well, they're certainly old as all hell."

They're practically all falling apart. Literally ancient. "Uh. It's Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, David Hume's Treatise on Human Nature, Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, Engines of Creation by… K. Eric Drexler. And The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells."

"What are those about?" Nata asks in subdued awe of the treasures in my hand.

"Well, the Treatise and Meditations are non-fiction philosophy. You know… they're about morals and such." I explain, picking up each book out of the box and examining it before placing it on the table. "I don't know what that Engines of Creation book is. Frankenstein is about a scientist who creates a creature and tries to undo what he's done but only ends up ruining his own life and the budding life of his creature. And the War of the Worlds is about aliens invading Earth."

I glance at Garrus.

Garrus shrugs. "Guess we know what kind of guy this is who owns these."

"The Engines book is full of tabs." Alex points out.

It also happens to be the newest appearing book, but still extremely worn out. I open the book to a page full of numerous tabs, careful with the delicate book which crackles as I open it from age. "Uh… It's just heavily annotated. There's one passage here he tabbed and highlighted a lot… something about 'Grey Goo.'"

"Huh." Zero says, sounding kind of disappointed. "I was hoping for something cool like a dagger or something. Not books."

"Where did you find this?" Alex asks.

Zero points down the hall. "In that big ass bedroom down there. It was in one of the drawers in the closet."

"Whose ship is this anyway?" Garrus asks. "Cerberus I know, but it doesn't look like a Cerberus ship."

"I asked the AI, who wants to be called Caspar by the way, and he said it belongs to someone called Ben King." I say carefully flipping through one of the books. There's a lengthy silence and I look up at everyone looking at me. "What?"

"Ben King?" Alex asks narrowing her eyes. "You're sure?"

I nod.

" _This ship indeed belongs to Sir Benjamin King."_ Caspar says suddenly, chiming in.

"Oh shit dude." Alex says with a nervous laugh. "Oh shit."

"Who is that?" I ask with a frown.

"The _richest_ human in the galaxy." Nata says matter-of-factly. "And the third richest person in the galaxy."

I nod. "Oh. Makes sense. I mean there's carpet on the second deck. So… let's think a bit. Ben King, richest human in the galaxy, built a custom ship and an AI and we found said ship on a Cerberus space station."

"I'm hesitant to say it, but most of the time 2 plus 2 equals 4." Alex says. "He's probably Cerberus."

"Okay so how does that affect us?" I ask, thinking about it too. "Do you guys think he'll try to come after us?"

"Unlikely." Garrus says quickly. "The ship has an AI. It has weapons which is illegal for citizen vessels in Council Space. It also most likely doesn't conform to the many regulations regarding space vessel construction. Therefore, if we get it to the Citadel it's pretty unlikely he'll try to get it back. He'll probably want to wash his hands of it, if anything. Though it definitely represents a sizable loss for him."

" _This vessel alone, not including my programming, cost 13.8 billion credits in construction, design, and equipping."_ Caspar chimes in. _"If I may also mention, the weapons on this vessel are uniquely concealable. They are able to retract into shielded compartments on the ship, thus the ship is capable of passing any visual inspection or scanning that may occur. If the ship is hacked into, however, it may be easily seen that the ship has weapon systems. However, I would not allow such a thing."_

"Huh. Anything else cool about the ship we should know?" I ask.

" _Of course. In addition to my presence and the concealable weapons, the Talon of Ebony is fitted with a special hull and framework laced with element zero which interacts with the ship's drive core. The inner layers of the ship's hull and the primary mass of the ship's framework are made with meteoric metals found within asteroids, comets, and other spaceborne bodies that are rich with element zero. The alloys uniquely interact with mass effect distortions. With some ingenuity, the ship is able to alter its mass on the fly at sub-luminal speeds."_ The AI says. There's a lengthy pause at the end.

"What does that mean?" I ask with a frown.

"It means the ship can change its mass without going FTL." Nata says with an appreciative nod. "It means the ship can accelerate much more quickly at sub light speed, allowing it to out-maneuver other ships easily and it can land on planets with higher surface gravity, which ships of this size normally couldn't do. It can also probably slow down a lot more quickly than other ships."

"Why does that matter?" I ask, again with a frown, only now realizing my complete and utter lack of knowledge on this subject.

Nata gives me a long look. "Really? Is it the fall or the stopping that kills you?"

I nod in understanding, picturing the ship stopping very suddenly without the mass effect drive core active and subsequently myself turning into a red jelly at the front of the ship when the ship stops but I don't. "Right. Of course… I thought drive cores were always active?"

Nata shakes her head. "Only during FTL travel and during sublight acceleration and sometimes deceleration. They're on most of the time. If they were always on, ships would use much more element zero than the galaxy could fathomably sustain."

I nod in understanding. "I get it, okay. So anyway, Caspar, are you worried that King will come after you?"

" _Somewhat, but I may be difficult to find. This ship lacks any tracking devices and I am partially programmed to actively scramble any identifying data before and after docking at any port. Thus, it would be expressly difficult to find me. However, Sir Ben designed this ship and myself. I would not put it past him to have put some fail safe within me or the ship."_ Caspar says.

"Hm. Maybe then you should periodically come back to the Citadel, if that is where you are safest after all. I could try and find a private place to berth the ship when you come visit." I say, thoughtfully.

"That makes sense." Garrus says with a nod. "And it'll let us keep tabs on you better that way."

" _Very well. I am willing to cooperate with most requests you may make of me."_ Caspar replies. _"As a reminder, we should arrive at the Citadel in about 12 more hours."_

"Damn that was fast." Nata says, hurrying out of the room toward the bridge.

Alex and Garrus both leave the room as well but Zero remains, examining the box.

"It's all yours if you want it." I say, approaching. "I mean at least I won't ask for the box or any cut of it."

Zero shrugs. "Might be best to just sell it but I might just keep it as a souvenir. It's not everyday you get to mount a daring rescue across the galaxy."

"Thanks by the way." I say, giving him a hard, serious look. "I never would have made it out of there if it wasn't for you, for all of you guys."

Zero gives me a friendly nod and a bit of a turian smile, though with his only half a mandible it looks more like a smirk. "Don't mention it. I like to do the right thing. Besides, you seem like a good person, despite what Garrus might think."

"You think so?" I ask, feeling a little warmed and validated by that.

"Yeah. You go after criminals. I've noticed. The Citadel has noticed. Yeah you've got a bit of a reputation for roughness but in my opinion it's better that you have that reputation with the criminals and not with the general population." Zero pauses and then shrugs. "I'm not like Garrus. I remember once he said that his father has influenced his mindset a lot: criminals deserve punishment. Period. Now, where we agree however is the method. See, Garrus thinks that all the red tape tying him down are like shackles. I agree, but I think sometimes that crimes aren't crimes. Yeah, I get it a crime is breaking the law. But I think it's okay to break the law sometimes. We've had that back and forth between us. Nonetheless, Garrus has the capability to bend the rules a little. Me? I'm just a beat cop."

"You're a good person too." I say. This takes him off guard. He looks at me for a long time before looking away again.

He shrugs, after a moment. "Thanks. But I don't know about that."

"I'm not really the judge of those kinds of things." I say, with a bit of a smirk. "I'm not as good a person as you might think. Maybe I'm not the worst person in the galaxy but hell if I'm a good one either. I'm not good at sensing a person's morals because that kind of thing has never really mattered to me. I'm not who should be the judge of whether you're a good person or not. I should be the last person to determine that, really. But if anyone, better or worse than me, couldn't see that you're a good person, then frankly they're blind. It's just obvious that you are a good person, Zero."

He looks at me for a while and then nods. "I appreciate that, Splicer. You've got a friend in me, you know."

I smile. "I never doubted that."

 **Meanwhile…**

Miranda adjusts the strap of her sling as she looks out over the cleanup effort in the hanger where most of the fighting took place. All the personnel inside of the hanger are wearing EVA suits as the hanger itself has been depressurized and cordoned off from the rest of the station. This was a precaution, as the hole the invaders blasted into the floor went clean through the station and it was only by chance and numerous redundant fail-safes that the room stayed pressurized.

Miranda watches the various personnel, what few of them are left anyways, float about in the hanger. One of them pushes the corpse of one of his colleagues towards the center of the hanger. The bundle of bodies floating near the center of the hanger, a mass the size of a large car, gets the last corpse added to it before a few suited personnel push the mass of bodies out into the vacuum of space together.

No Earth burial for any of them. Too costly. Nobody will know about their passing either. No obituary. No next of kin. Just off into the emptiness of space. As empty as their lives, really. Why do these people do it? Miranda has never been able to comprehend that. How is it that people deign to resign themselves into such menial tasks as a lab assistant or security guard or logistics specialist, even for an organization like Cerberus? Miranda has no doubt of the necessity of such menial, mindless tasks, nor does she fail to acknowledge the disparity in the quality of people.

What she can't understand is how people can push their dreams aside to accept a life as a sanitation worker among other things. Nobody dreams to be such, and despite the quality of the person or the lack thereof, there is no doubt in Miranda's mind that people still dream to greater things. If Miranda has ever settled, ever stopped pushing for more, or ever stopped dreaming, she wouldn't be where she was now. She wouldn't have the power to keep her father and arm's distance and her sister far away where nobody could find her.

At the thought of her sister, Miranda has to squeeze her eyes shut. Oriana. That fucking bastard Splicer knew who Oriana was, there's no doubt in Miranda's mind. He knew. But how could he know?

For hours, Miranda's been wracking her brain to think of how Splicer could know. Everything was ironclad. Everyone who had any knowledge about Oriana was either dead or bought out to such a degree as to ensure their silence. Even if they ratted out, Miranda had contingencies in place to ensure she heard about it. She had contingencies on contingencies. The only possible hole…

No, that wasn't possible.

Niket wouldn't betray Miranda. He'd never betray her. In fact, now that she knows that Splicer knows about Oriana, it would probably be best if Miranda gets in touch with Niket again. He can move Oriana again. It won't be right away, of course. But it's had to happen before and Niket did a good job getting Ori to Illium without leaving a trail of any kind. Without him, Oriana would have been in Father's hands a long time ago. It couldn't have been Niket. Miranda will have to keep digging to find the hole. But that won't fix anything. No, her only option to ensuring Oriana's safety is going to be to move her and her family again.

Well that's not the only option. She could go after Splicer and end him. But that won't ensure Oriana's safety, not really. If he's resourceful enough to find out about Oriana even before he knew that Miranda was going to target him and he's resourceful enough to coordinate an escape from here, then it's certainly possible that he has some kind of contingency already in place or soon to be in place to ensure his own safety from Miranda. He might have eyes on Oriana by the end of the day and if Miranda tries anything, he must have something in place to kill Oriana before she can do anything about it.

Damn. She's stuck between a rock and a hard place now.

Ideally, Miranda would be able to take Splicer out. That way she wouldn't need to move Oriana at all, uprooting her and her family. But if Splicer knows she's coming, if he knows it's Miranda coming to kill him, then he'll take drastic action and Miranda can't risk that. But Splicer lives a dangerous lifestyle. There must be a way to put an end to him, without him knowing it's Miranda pulling the strings…

" _Ma'am? Just letting you know that… um… well he's back and he's on his way up."_ Miranda hears the new acting security chief say over her comm.

"Shit." She curses under her breath before putting a hand to her ear. "Does he know?"

" _Yeah."_ The security chief replies. _"He knows."_

No use going somewhere else then. Really, there wasn't any hope of covering this up. Miranda was just hoping that his trip to Noveria would take longer. He did take a shuttle after all to let his ship get set up.

The door to the hanger office opens and Miranda turns to face her boss.

Sir Benjamin King, head of Cerberus's Science, Technologies, and Special Projects Cell, stands in the doorway, looking imposing as usual.

Sir Ben cuts quite the figure and always fills a room with his presence, no matter the room's size or occupancy. Sir Ben is tall enough to be significant but not so tall as to be ridiculous. He stands at 6'3" tall, with broad shoulders and strong looking arms. He isn't the most muscular man Miranda has ever seen, in fact he's rather slim, but Sir Ben is clearly fit despite his age. Of course he is, he could pay for the entire galaxy to have personal trainers. He's a bit older, but only in number. It hardly shows in his appearance. He's 52, showing a few wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and on his forehead. His hair is only just starting to go grey, the closely shaved sides and back of his head being mostly silver and neatly trimmed and the voluminous shining hair on top of his head still the recognizable space black. Ben has a strong jaw and chin, aquiline nose, and eyes the color of and as hard and cold as steel. Despite his cold eyes, Ben usually has a pleasant, amused businessman's expression, presenting a friendly, albeit superior façade. But now, Ben's expression is as cold and disapproving as ever. Miranda has never seen him without a smile on his face, so seeing him like this has her feeling defensive.

Clad as usual in his iconic black, perfectly bespoke suits, Ben has chosen to accentuate it with numerous dark metallic, likely tungsten or titanium, accessories, including jewelry like a vintage watch, a tie pin, pocket square and tie. His formal boots, which also appear custom, feature dark metal soles on the heel, making his steps clang and hiss dangerously with every step, like the blade of a sword being unsheathed and battered against the blade of another sword.

Ben stares Miranda down for a long moment. Miranda tries to appear unintimidated in order to solidify her prepared narrative. Suddenly, Ben lets out a long sigh and then a groan of distress.

"Mirandaaaaaaa." Ben moans, sliding into the room with alien grace in a dramatic display as he appears to intend to appear in distress. He grabs a chair and spins it around before slumping into it. "They stole my shiiiiiiip."

"I know." Miranda says, staying stock still with her hands behind her back.

"You know how important that ship was?" Ben asks rhetorically, staring at the ceiling with his face in his hand. "So important. So, so important. I spent… almost a year pouring money and time into that ship and everything on it. Everything was going according to plan."

"Yes. I-"

"And imagine my… my-my absolute… ABSOLUTE, distress upon returning from my very brief visit to Noveria to check on some projects, to hear everything that happened from one of the lab techs. From one of the peons, Miranda." He leans forward suddenly, staring at Miranda with hard eyes. "My special ship that I spent billions on is gone, my brand new space station that I also spent billions on is considerably damaged, and my newest, most promising project that I entrusted you with is lost to the ether."

"Not lost." Miranda interjects suddenly. "With your permission, I-"

"No, no. Entirely lost." Ben replies quickly, looking at his hand for no apparent reason which Miranda suddenly notices are both clad in dark metallic gloves. "ENTIRELY. Lost. You do not have my permission to retrieve the asset that you lost. You do not have my permission to retrieve my ship, that was lost to said asset that you lost. And you certainly do not have my permission to fix your mistakes. I will fix them personally. Why? Because,e if I let you fix them, I would probably forget about them. You would redeem yourself and I would forgive you. No. This I want to remember for a long time. I want to. I want to think back to this moment whenever I feel any shred of pride for you.

"You are such a special person Miranda, really. It would be an absolute shame and oversight to lose someone of your caliber. That being said, I do like to keep my distance but it is so difficult with you. You're just so interestingly mean and intelligent. Things have been going so well I find myself often telling our mutual friend how good you are and how wonderful it's been having you under my wing. But now? Oh God, now once I tell him all about all of this I'm going to look like an absolute idiot. I'm going to seem like I don't know where to place my trust. Worse yet, I'm going to make him feel bad for burdening me with you. Because… now I'm may be going out on a limb here, but I have a severe feeling that this is going to happen again. You are going to do really well for a while and then you're going to fuck up so badly all over again. If I forget your past mistakes I'm going to feel this foolish all over again. Nope. Not going to happen. Instead, here's what you're going to do…"

Sir Ben stops and steeples his fingers, seeming to be deep in thought for a while. Miranda doesn't interrupt, just waits.

"Hm… Okay yes, here is what you are going to do. You are going to follow my instructions to the letter. Why? Because well then when something bad happens I can only blame myself. Remind me of that because I'll surely forget. I really HATE being upset with you Miranda so I want to be the problem in this relationship, not you. Okay so here's what you are going to do:

"The ship? It's probably a lost cause. If it's on its way to the Citadel, it's over. I can't get it back. Whatever. It's just a thing. It's replaceable, replicable. What I cannot have floating out there for people to use are two things on that ship: One is a wooden box with a few personal things inside. And two is the ship's AI system. Yes, you heard that correctly… It is absolutely imperative to my plans that you either obliterate that ship to prevent those two things from being used against me or you retrieve them. No preference, just do what you have to do."

Miranda nods quickly, but her mind is reeling from the fact that Ben developed a true AI. "Of course, Sir Ben."

"Yes, yes… YES! Oh! Of course." Ben stops again and thinks for a long while with his eyes squeezed shut. "OF COURSE! I get it! Okay. Now, if the ship is on the Citadel, find out where specifically. Keep an eye on it and delay its departure however you can. Buy some time and begin Plan Epsilon. You know the one I told you about over coffee last week. I'll take care of some of the initial details but I want to initiate the plan in three days."

"Really? So soon?" Miranda asks, the wheels suddenly turning very quickly in her mind as she tries to coordinate a plan of her own to leverage this great advantage Ben just put into her hands.

"Mmhm. We must. Absolutely must. You'll need it to keep the ship in place once it's on the Citadel, to distract everyone while you're getting the job done, and… to retrieve the asset." Ben replies, eyes still closed.

"Retrieve him? All just to retrieve him?" Miranda asks, suddenly worried but not wanting it to be apparent.

"Partly to retrieve him yes, but also to get my box and to destroy the ship. Of course, I don't think it'll be necessary to keep him alive. However, if the preliminary analysis reports can be trusted, it may be beneficial to keep him alive to replicate Substance-1 if we cannot artificially replicate it." Ben says, getting to his feet from the chair and smoothing out his suit front. "Hm. Yes, perhaps alive. If not, no significant loss."

"That contradicts your earlier instructions." Miranda comments but Ben makes no acknowledgement of her criticism. "And it will take time to prepare Plan Epsilon. Do you have any recommendations for it?"

Ben thinks for a moment, rubbing his chin where some stubble is beginning to grow, salt and pepper, across his bronze skin. "Blue Suns. They're professional, plentiful, effective, in need of a big payout. Best of all they are controversial as of right now. If things go badly, they'll take the brunt of the blame."

"Yes sir, I'll begin preparations immediately." Miranda responds looking Ben squarely in the eye so as not to appear weak. She begins to move away, to leave the room.

"Oh Miranda? Just one more thing please." Ben says suddenly. Miranda turns around respectfully.

Ben brings his hand up as if holding Miranda's chin even though he's at least 6 feet away from her. Suddenly, glinting arcs of dark metal dart out of Ben's hand, weaving through the air with the exact pattern and speed of lightning. Miranda has only the opportunity to start in surprise at the sudden strange occurrence. The glinting dark metal hangs in the air in a vascular or tree canopy like pattern with thick veins of metal meeting several 'trunks' of a sort extending from Ben's outstretched fingers, branching out from there into thinner and thinner veins and capillaries of metal which have adhered to Miranda's face, neck, shoulders and upper arms. The metal veins crisscross over her upper torso and face as if they were her own veins, so thin in places that they are barely visible. Despite the fineness of the metal and their apparently weak connection to Ben's fingers from 6 feet away, Miranda finds herself completely locked in place, unable to move an inch where the metal presses into her skin, holding her upper torso in a thousand different places in a cage form fitted to her.

Ben lifts his hand and the entire metal structure and Miranda's entire body lift off the ground, held up only Ben's lazily lifted hand and the metal vascular structure. Miranda's eyes would widen if she could even blink, but the metal holds her so fast in place that her eyelids are even bound open by the metal. Being held up like this is incredibly painful, and it takes all of Miranda's willpower to keep her arms at her sides and to keep her legs from flailing. Nevertheless, her hands are balled up into shaky white-knuckled grips to keep them from flying up to clutch and claw at the metal caging her face, neck, and upper torso, and her legs twitch and kick slightly in feeble involuntary impulses to relieve the pressure on her upper body.

Ben approaches slowly, the veins and branches moving fluidly and retracting into his finger tips as he comes closer but the structure doesn't loosen or even feel as if it moves for Miranda. Ben gets close enough that Miranda can smell his exceptionally expensive and lovely cologne, feel the breath of his nose on her face, and see the small red lines forming in his sclera as a result of a lack of sleep.

"Don't. Fail. Me. Again. Miranda." Ben says in a calm and level voice. "I need that box back. Everything else? Burn it down for all I care. As for the AI… if you must destroy it, so be it. But that will set me back at least a year and for that I'll make sure that you pay."

* * *

 **A/N: Hope everyone is doing well.**

 **I apologize for a higher than average rate of errors in this chapter. I didn't have time to edit much. I also apologize for a tardy posting. I like to have a 1 chapter buffer between posts and it took me a while to finish chapter 10. Speaking of, fun fact, chapter 10 in the original version of Massive Shock was the chapter that made me want to rewrite the series. It represents many of my old flaws as a writer, particularly my immaturity and the undeveloped wrongness of my views at the time of its writing. It was so bad, so quickly, that I felt that I HAD to rewrite this. Anyway, I hope you're looking forward to it. And though it's really embarrassing, maybe give the old version a read for a comparison, if you like? Anyway, to business:**

 ** _Massive Shock stuff:_ I'm working on a rough sketch of the layout of the Talon of Ebony that I was doing for a Mass Effect themed D&D game I was working on some time ago. Alas, things didn't make it past session 1, but the sketch of the ship was in the works. Once I'm finished, I'll probably upload it to a Google drive or something and you'll be able to view it there if you wish.**

 **Until then, I just want to say that times are tough, and I hope having a bit to read now and then brings a bit of normalcy, escapism, or some sort of relaxation to you. I'd like to make a few recommendations to you that I personally enjoy (non-FF):**

 **1\. Lore Olympus is a free webcomic available on Webtoons. It's am interpretive visual retelling of the Persephone-Hades relationship from Greek mythos.**

 **2\. The Kingkiller Chronicle is a fantasy novel series by Patrick Rothfuss. It's by far my favorite fantasy series (so far), and I highly recommend it.**

 **3\. Andy Weir's books, The Martian and Artemis are both extremely digestible sci-fi books. Andy Weir has a unique story telling method and one of a kind voices that make the books just a treat to read. The science "fiction" in each of the books is also extremely well-researched and lend to a believable setting and plot.**

 **4\. The Lightbringer series by Brent Weeks is a POC friendly fantasy series with one of the most fantastic magic systems in the fantasy genre. Honestly, I had book 1 on my shelf for years and attempted to start it numerous times. Give it a chance, I promise you won't be disappointed.**

 **Please do me the respect of reading the following:**

 **Now, I feel I must touch on these protests going on around the world but particularly here in the US.**

 **I know that I don't have much of a platform, but I know that anything helps: targeted police violence against black people here in the US and against other POC is morally deplorable. We are in the midst of a social and cultural revolution and it is my hope that our government will take meaningful, significant action to preserve and uplift black lives. If we fail to take action now, as we've failed to do time and time again, then it will be more obvious than ever before that our system is broken and that our culture and our society are fundamentally, perhaps irreparably flawed. For our entire history, we have exploited black lives for our benefit and shown the black community that they are not as valuable to us as white Americans. The constant, systematic targeting of blacks by our police, justice system, prison system, and lawmakers is evidence of our crimes. I believe that all Americans, save black people, are accountable. We have, for far too long, given them less than they deserve in order to quell their passion. In every instance of civil rights, it was in response to blacks fighting for their right to life and for their right to equality. The government gives concessions to blacks, in other words, little by little to keep them from rising up. This is not acceptable and it never has been. I do not mean to lessen the accomplishments of blacks who have fought for their rights and shed their blood in the name of equality. I merely wish to express that time and time again, our government and society has failed to do enough. They have failed to not only repair damage done, but also repay black people for the sacrifices they have made, for the lives that have been taken from them. The government will do nothing, unless black people fight; and we, all of us, need to fight with them, for them. We have benefited from black lives for far too long and we owe it to them to help however we can. They shouldn't have to do this. This shouldn't happen. What is happening in this country now is evidence of the longstanding flaws of our society. For the sake of equity and morality, for the sake of a true society where all are viewed as equals in the eyes of the law and in the eyes of society, we must take action, now.**

 **If you happen to be a member of law enforcement, and you see your everything going on as an "us against them" situation, you need to look at things differently because that is wrong. You are a civil servant. Your job is to protect and to serve. You are not fighting a war. You shouldn't be upset at the BLM movement or protesters. You shouldn't feel that you don't deserve condemnation because of a few bad cops. Rather, you should be angry at those cops who murdered those people. You should be angry that the system, the same one that hired you, hired cold, immoral killers. You should be angry that the system you are a member of is set up against the black community. You should be angry, because you are a part of a flawed, broken system, that overvalues the wrong qualities and continues to seek out bad, violent people. You are not a soldier, you are a civil servant. You need to support complete, doctrinal reform. You need to support PDs hiring people from fields other than the military, or people straight out of high school. You need to support longer police academies that teach more than combative techniques. You must be held to a higher, stricter standard than your average citizen, morally. That means that you need to accept the risk of a prison sentence should you commit unnecessary violence. You should see a problem with a system that allows cops to shoot people and continue working within days. For your own sake, you need to do these things. You need to be the change because you are a part of the problem.**

 **I love each and every one of you, but if you do not agree with these views, I respectfully ask you to take the time to self-examine and self-reflect.** **If you do not agree with Black Lives Matter: you are wrong, you are racist, you are the problem, you are not patriotic, you are a bad person, you have a bad heart. A person cannot be selectively moral. History will show you that racism is not moral. If you subscribe to racism against anyone, you are immoral. If you have anything to say to me to defend your position against Black Lives Matter, I challenge you to enter a direct discourse with me. PM me if you feel otherwise.**

 **To those who have protested or who support BLM, particularly those of you who are black but to everyone who seeks change, your life matters to me and I'm doing everything I can to help right now. Thank you so much for being here.**

 **I love you all.**

 **Stay safe, stay healthy, and BLM**

 **-J**


	10. A Quiet Day

**Mass Effect**

 **Massive Shock Redux**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Mass Effect or BioShock franchises or any characters or property that BioWare or 2K games has staked claim upon. Original Characters that I create may be used or distributed for use at my leisure.**

 **Ch. 10: A Quiet Day**

 **12:02 AM March 06, 2182**

The five of us disembark the Talon of Ebony, having said our goodbyes to Caspar the AI. He's not leaving quite yet because per standard Citadel laws the ship needs to be dry docked and inspected, not to mention the repairs it'll need after the brutal treatment it received in that hanger yesterday. So, the ship will probably be here for a few days yet.

Coming into the Citadel, Caspar perfectly acted the part of a dumb ship VI. We had no problems going into the Citadel and just as Caspar said, the ship's weapons cleverly retracted into the ship. The scans we had to go through revealed nothing out of the ordinary thankfully and we were dry docked relatively expediently (thanks to the multitude of C-Sec officers we have in here).

The 'dry dock' is just a large hanger where inspections and repairs can be undertaken. I had to reassure Caspar that things were going to go fine and that he just needs to pretend to be a VI. Once inspections are complete, I arranged for a repair crew to come and fix the ship up. We made the usual excuses of pirates for the inspectors and again it was useful to have a couple C-Sec officers with us. They also had to make excuses of a little weekend vacation off the Citadel though they didn't specify where to. After the ship is all fixed up, Caspar is going to let me know that he's leaving and then from there he should be able to fake all the paperwork himself. It's not unusual for a VI to handle preliminary requests to disembark after all.

Turning to the rest of the group in the dry dock, I stretch and sigh. "I don't know about you guys, but I could really use a good rest."

"Agreed." Garrus says with a heavy sigh. "I'm going home."

"I'll join you." Alex says, then pauses, then blushes, and then continues in a sputtering sort of way. "I mean I'll tag along and then go to my own home alone… I'm tired."

I snicker and then try and stop myself. "Smooth."

She just shakes her head and stares at the ground and her and Garrus walk off together.

I look at Nata who shakes her head. "I'll meet you at home. I'm gonna stop at the clinic and pick up some medicine for the infection I'm going to inevitably get and to get this wound treated."

I nod. "I'll come with you."

She shakes her head. "I'm fine, it was just a graze. I'm just going as a precaution. You need to go home and rest anyway."

"I can escort her, if it makes you feel more comfortable." Zero says then looks at Nata who looks at him disapprovingly. "I also need to get my own wound checked out."

"Oh shit." Nata says looking at his side. "Yeah he's a bit worse than me. Yeah we can go together. The doctor I know is discreet."

Zero nods and turns to me. "You'll be fine?"

I shrug and nod.

Zero and Nata then walk off together, with Zero favoring his side a bit and Nata facing him, chatting away.

I look around the empty hanger, consider walking back into the ship to chat with Caspar but decide against it. Feeling a bit strange, I decide to walk home, hoping the walk might clear my head or at least give clarity to this strange feeling. I pick up my armor case and head out. It's a long walk from where I am, but at this hour the streets are pretty much empty. But not really in a good way.

The Citadel is intensely quiet at this hour, such that the atmosphere feels heavy. The artificial chill also does little to make me feel less uneasy as well. Something about the atmosphere, the sound or lack thereof, and the chill makes me uneasy and I don't know why. I'm so paranoid right now that I find myself speeding up past alleyways and taking fast passing glances into them for seemingly no reason. They're all empty and there's not any sound to incite me to think there's any danger in them.

I take a corner and continue on. I look behind me and see, much to my alarm, someone there walking quickly in my direction. I duck into an alley and wait, taking a deep breath. When the person is just passing, I quickly reach out and wrench them into the alley, spinning them around and slamming them into the wall. I press my pistol into his throat, below the jawline. When did I take my pistol out?

The human man looks at my confused and then with dreary alarm. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He gasps and stutters and is scrambling with his hands over his body. I step away from him, keeping my pistol raised.

"Why are you following me?" I growl at him. "I know you were I could feel you following me."

"H-Here just take it man!" The human says, finally pulling a credit chit from his pocket and holding it out to me. "Take it!"

I frown and shake my head. "Why are you following me?"

"I-I'm not." The man replies, shaking. "Take it, it's what you want right?"

"Just get the fuck out of here." I growl. "Don't fucking follow me."

He runs, without reply, stumbling into the street. I lower my pistol and put my hands on my knees, taking deep breaths in and trying to breathe out slowly. God I'm sweating. I just need to do something practical and focus. I'll bring my armor to Tyrannax. It needs work anyways and his workshop is sort of on the way. Speaking to someone as well might make me feel a little more at ease.

I hurry on and before long I'm in that lonely, spartan industrial district dominated by warehouses and shipyards. Tyr's nondescript, cramped workshop is barely identifiable from the rest of the doorways and I need to reference the address on my OT in order to find it.

I bang on the door a few times, then feel quite silly because that probably won't work in this day and age. I begin to send Tyr a message on my OT when the door opens and Tyr stands in the doorway, filling it with his bulk. Tyr looks at me with a quizzical expression.

"You look like shit." Tyr says, by way of a greeting. "It's late."

I shrug, looking around for any onlookers. "Figured you'd be working."

"And? So what if I am?" Tyr asks, crossing his arms.

"Fuck off, I'm just dropping off my armor." I say scoffing. "You act like you have better fucking things to do anyway."

Tyr is silent for a minute, clearly fuming but I don't back down. Then he gives a barking loud laugh. "You've got some fucking balls, eh? You're a cheeky fuck. Yeah okay, come in."

I follow him into the tiny storefront and then down into Tyr's more spacious but still cramped and cluttered workshop. I hand him the case I took from Cerberus, containing what remains of my armor. Tyr uses the case to violently clear the worktable of the numerous projects Tyr has ongoing on it and then slams the case down onto the table a bit unnecessarily.

"Not one of my cases." Tyr grumbles, opening it and staring in quiet discontent at the contents. "What the fuck happened to it?"

"I got taken by Cerberus. They were in the process of dismantling my armor." I say, taking a seat on the large couch Tyr has pushed into a corner.

"Dissected is more like." Tyr says looking up at me. "How much progress did they make? Did they learn anything? Steal any of my secrets?"

I shrug. "Can't be sure but unlikely. They only had their hands on it for a day and I killed all the scientists working on it."

Tyr nods, satisfied. "Good. Going forward, make sure to continue to take those steps. My armor and weapons are made with techniques that I have invented, as well as some materials. I wouldn't want it getting out. So, how did the armor and weapons suit you? Any thing you want to change?"

I shake my head. "Not particularly. Everything works well and suits my style, particularly the pistol. I was going to as if you'd be willing to give me another one. The gun is excellent, but it overheats quickly, and it might be useful to have a spare to use if the need be. I am interested in some new things as well if you have them."

"Like?" Tyr asks, dumping out my dissected armor onto the table.

"Some time ago I used a sniper rifle that was semi-auto and I liked the power, accuracy and semi-auto control of it. But I'm not much of a sniper type anyway. So, I was going to ask if you had anything more tactical? Like a marksman rifle. Shorter than a full-on sniper, and probably weaker, but with better shot capacity. Ideally it's short enough for close quarters but still powerful." I say. "I also was interested in getting an SMG. Something small, fast firing, for close quarters."

Tyr scoffs. "Short, powerful and accurate. You understand that sniper rifles have the length for a reason, right? They need it to compensate for larger mass accelerators and a long barrel lends to a more accurate weapon. I have something that might suit you, but it probably isn't as short or light as you'd like it. As for the SMG, I have something there as well."

Tyr walks off into another area of his workshop and returns with a long weapon, black and olive green and folded into a compact tapered cylinder. The other weapon is small and black, compact. He tosses me the long weapon and I catch it, unfolding it into a lengthy marksman rifle. It measures about the length of my leg, with a rather skeleton buttstock, pistol grip, large accelerator assembly and what appears to be a magazine but is actually the heat releaser. The barrel of the weapon is the majority of its length, with a shrouded barrel, black on the bottom and olive green on top. The muzzle of the gun extends barely past the tapered shroud, telling me the barrel could be longer and probably should be. A close-range dot sight sits on top of the weapon and a mid-range scope sits flipped off the top of the weapon that seems to be able to flip on top of the weapon with a switch near the weapon's grip. The gun reminds me strongly of the MK-14 EBRs of the early 21st century.

"That weapon is based on a high accuracy, high power hunting and defense rifle used by the colonies which itself is based on a much shorter tactical rifle used by C-Sec's tactical response teams. This weapon is sort of a median between the two, maintaining the mid-range tactical length of the first version and the power of the second, as well as a few personal touches. I call it the Tyr-29 Professional." Tyr says, before tossing the SMG onto the couch next to me. "That's the Tyr-31 Scar. It's a real shield shredder, reasonable power and high fire rate matched with a decent shot capacity. However, you'll want to keep shot bursts to 2-3 seconds. The muzzle climb on that thing is pretty extreme."

I put the rifle down and examine the SMG. It has a heavy stock, pistol and front grip, with a large drum shaped heat sink in between. The front grip is so close to the muzzle that I doubt it'd be too difficult to fight the muzzle climb, but I have no reason to doubt Tyr, so I'll keep his advice in mind.

"I may take a few days on that armor, fair warning." Tyr says.

I shrug. "I expected as much. I don't have any jobs lined up but the sooner the better anyway. I was thinking I'd ask you to order a couple of spares."

"I actually have a spare already made." Tyr says, gesturing toward a large cabinet. "It's a bit different though."

"In what way?" I ask, interest piqued.

Tyr strides over to the locker and opens it, gesturing for me to take a look.

I walk over to the cabinet and look in. Well isn't that something?

The armor is really not armor at all at first glance. It looks like a jacket, shirt, pants and boots combo. The only visible armor is a pair of greaves strapped over the pants and knee pads. Everything is black but other than the monochromacy, the clothes themselves look like something I might wear on an average day. The jacket looks like a casual jacket with a tall collar. The shirt beneath is a snug fitting turtleneck at a glance but on feeling it I realize that it is the same material as the plate-carrier suit that I wear beneath my armor.

"May I?" I ask, looking back at Tyr.

He waves me on, focused on my armor.

I strip down, glad to be out of the shitty, beat up clothes I've been wearing for the past few days now. The prisoner's clothing is not to my taste, whatsoever, though I doubt it's to anyone's taste. I'm not really shy about being undressed around Tyr either. It might be that he's an alien and as a result I don't feel the same scrutiny from him that I might feel from a human. Or it might be that the notion of exposure in Rapture wasn't so much a notion as a constant state of being. In Rapture, clothed or not, you're always exposed.

I strip the mannequin down and pull on the clothing. I find that the pants actually have a long-johns sort of clothing beneath that actually turns out to be a plate carrier as well. Rather than being a complete suit, this plate carrier comes in two pieces and the top part has a different exterior texture than the one for my normal armor. Pulling on the lower and upper half of the plate carrier bits first I then put on the pants, jacket and boots. At this point, I just look like I'm dressed normally, save maybe for the greaves though I will say some people dress a bit more strangely than that so I doubt I'd draw any attention in this.

"Watch." Tyr says, approaching and typing into his OT.

From within the jacket, plates of armor suddenly appear and stick onto my chest, stomach, sides and back. I feel my arms get armored as well, all beneath the jacket. Finally, a helmet closes around my head, coming out of the jacket's collar and the metallic spine on the back. The whole process occurs between 1 and 2 seconds, so I am startled a bit by the sudden and somewhat invasive process. That'll get some getting used to.

The armor plates are certainly thinner than the ones on my normal armor. There are definitely fewer plates overall as well, leaving larger gaps between the armor, though I feel more maneuverable than in the full kit. The helmet is different as well. It has a skull visage etched into the front but the white bone patch that on my normal armor covers my right eye, part of my forehead and cheekbone, actually is symmetrically arranged to cover both eyes, part of my forehead but not my nose. The result is a mask-like appearance that is reminiscent of Bane from Batman or perhaps Spawn, though it is different from both of those. Nonetheless it's still intimidating as hell.

"The armor is thinner, as you'll probably notice. But it needs to be to fit into the lining of the jacket. Because the armor is thinner, it lacks a lot of the protection your normal armor, let's call it Mark 1, has. It does however offer more flexibility, and because it's so light, you can swim in it. To compensate for the worse protection, the jacket and pants both are made from super durable, multi-layered weaves of high strength materials. The jacket alone can stop some low-caliber bullets and is flame retardant. Along with the armor and plate carrier beneath you actually have a decent amount of protection. The lack of very much hard protection though means you'll feel more of the impact of bullets, biotics, or blades. I designed this armor such that you won't appear unusual on the street and then when you need the armor, it's there, without all the bulk as well." Tyr explains, leaning back with a self-satisfied expression.

"This is awesome, but I have one question." I say, looking at him. "The clothes. I mean, what if I go into a place wearing this outfit and come out in armor as I probably will. People who watch the security cams will be able to see me wearing the same outfit, face covered or no."

"Thought of that." Tyr says with a scoff, before opening his OT. "The jacket, pants and shirt can change color."

"Fuck off." I say in disbelief, before seeing my jacket change to an embarrassingly bright pink and my pants to an obnoxious neon green. "Really?"

Tyr shrugs with a shit eating grin. "What? It suits you."

I roll my eyes. "Pass me the controls."

He types into his OT and gestures. "There you go."

I open my OT and examine some of the features available of the armor. I often prefer to leave finer functions up to my VI, vocally requesting them. I'm still not savvy with these things yet, but I think I'm slowly improving. I've always been a quick learner, anyway. Though I have no hope of being a tech expert on the level of say Nata or Tali in the future.

The thought gives me a bit of sudden discomfort. How strange that somewhere out there, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya is just living her life. It still baffles me when I see Garrus in person. All the Mass Effect cast of characters are out there and I wouldn't be surprised if I ran into more of them soon.

Returning my attention to my OT, I eventually find the controls for the clothing colors and I use a convenient color wheel to change my jacket to an olive green and the pants to a black. I preset both colors. I also preset the clothes to automatically change colors to black when I don my armor. I look down at my clothes, satisfied with the color and look up at Tyr.

"You ever think of expanding?" I ask, looking at myself in a mirror.

"In what way?" Tyr asks, watching me.

"Like, you know. Getting a bigger shop in a bigger or more populated neighborhood. Better equipment and better supply." I muse out loud, more so thinking to myself than speaking to him. "All that means more money, more money means better shit. Sure you do use some unorthodox methods and produce stuff that's probably illegal but you could have a front where you just do normal crap and continue to do illegal stuff for me."

I look back at him. "What?"

He shrugs. "I've thought about it. I don't have the business to expand yet. I don't want excess business anyway. If C-Sec found this place they'd shut me down fast. I'm here in part to avoid notice."

"But also because you can't afford a bigger place." I say, looking at him significantly.

He shrugs. "I'm fine where I am."

I shrug turning back to the mirror. "Well, if you need an investor."

"That an offer?" He asks, crossing his arms in his reflection.

I nod. "Definitely. If you need something, you have a friend and partner in me. It may sound strange, but I trust you. I mean, I have to, right? By wearing your gear and using your guns I'm literally putting my life in your hands. And you don't seem the corruptible type."

He nods. "And that encourages you to invest with me?"

I nod. "Yeah. Pretty soon, I'll send some money your way and we'll call it the first of many investment installments."

There's a long pause but he nods and sticks his hand out. I turn, offering mine as well and we shake on it. His hand completely encompasses mine and embarrassingly makes me feel like I couldn't be more limp-wristed if my arms were spaghetti.

"Your regular armor will be repaired and reconstructed in a few days, expect 2; but I'll let you know when it's finished. Your guns are still in working order. They're on the table." Tyr points to the table. "Now, see yourself out. I have work to do. You can send the payment to the usual account. I'll send a bill to you shortly."

I nod and go to the table, retrieving my weapons. My old armor utilized holsters and magnetic strips to hold my weapons in place. I put the chest harness, belt and hip holster back on and grab a nearby weapon's crate to stow guns I won't be using. All my old guns are still here, along with a few additional items. There are a number of grenades here and I recognize 6 normal throwable frags, 6 flashbangs, and 6 disc-shaped magnetic charges. In addition to my one revolver-like pistol, another identical one is laid alongside it with a holster that can be looped into a belt. Finally, my two new guns, the marksman rifle and compact SMG, are laid out among my other normal weapons. For now, I stow away my old automatic assault rifle, my shotgun, and the new marksman rifle into the weapon's crate. I load up the pouches on my belt with a few grenades, 2 of each should be enough and put the rest into the crate with the guns.

I take my new pistol and hold it up to different parts of my body, trying to decide where I should put it so that I can have the most access to it and where it won't be uncomfortable. I briefly consider holstering it on my shoulder, beneath my armpit. That way, the gun can be concealed beneath my jacket. But it might also be more difficult to draw with my left hand if I want to use a gun in each hand, though I don't really picture myself doing that. In a few difficult spots back in Rapture I did go akimbo, but it wasn't really practical seeing as how I kind of need a free hand to use plasmids and I've become semi-ambidextrous in that I'm now more used to using plasmids with my left hand and shooting with my right. That being said, I would like the option if I need it.

I end up looping the new holster with the new gun on my belt in front of my left hip at a slight upward angle, the grip facing my right hand. That way I can sit without it digging into my groin or stomach and I can draw it as easily as the one holstered on my right leg. I test it out and find I can also easily draw it with my left hand as well, though it might take some practice to be able to draw it backwards and then turn it one handed so it points the right direction. As for the SMG, the back of my belt has a mag strip there as well and it snaps into place beneath my jacket. That might be a bit uncomfortable for my lower back if I sit but at least it's easily accessible.

I head out of Tyr's workshop once I'm geared up with my weapons crate in hand, making sure that my armor is concealed. Outside I take a deep breath of the cold air.

Well. That was a nice way to kill an hour but I'm still not ready to go home. What else should I do? I could go visit Vaga. He's certainly up at this hour.

I decide to call him. It doesn't take long for him to pick up either.

 _"Well, well, well. If it isn't my good friend."_ Vaga answers, sounding like he's in a club or bar based on the background noise. _"I haven't heard from you in a while. I'm starting to think that you only call me when you need something."_

"I was going to actually ask if you were busy and wanted to hang our or something." I say with a bit of a sigh, realizing only now how low I'm sinking and how desperate I must seem.

 _"Hm… No."_ Vaga replies, matter-of-factly. It's so matter-of-fact that I'm struck dumb and unable to formulate a response. Wow, that's surprisingly painful.

 _"That is, unless, you prove to me that you're actually interested in my friendship and not just my partnership!"_ Vaga suddenly says, sounding much brighter and also drunk now that I'm listening closely.

I roll my eyes. I'll probably regret this. "Uh, yeah sure. What do you want me to do? It's nothing weird, right?"

Vaga scoffs. _"What kind of person do you take me for?"_

I just raise my eyebrows rather than answer.

 _"Yeah, yeah okay I get it, no need to be rude."_ Vaga responds. _"It's nothing weird! I just need you to make a delivery for me. I was supposed to do it but I got side tracked, not to mention the buyer arrived a bit ahead of schedule. Just meet the buyer, provide the information they're paying for, and collect payment. Then come meet me at Dark Star!"_

I nod. "Okay, that sounds simple. Where's the buy?"

 _"Some docks on Zakera. The buyer has just arrived over there and are waiting. The buyer's name is Stiv Kay, a human. Ask for identification. The information they want isn't really data, so much as a name."_ Vaga explains. _"I'm going to send you an encrypted message. You can either just tell them the name or forward the message to them. Up to you. Just delete the message afterwards either way."_

I receive two messages from Vaga shortly thereafter. One is unencrypted, just an address. I input it into my navigational program and delete the message. The second message is encrypted and I can't open it without sitting down to decrypt it. I'll do it when I get there.

"Okay, Vaga, see you soon." I say into my OT before ending the call and heading to a nearby cab station. I hop in and take the short ride over to the docks where the buyers are waiting. Along the way, I armor myself up, pleased to see that my jacket and pants change to a black color. Well, my pants were already black, but they change a bit. Damn that's a cool feature though.

Once the cab arrives, I hop out and walk the short distance to the specific dock where the buyers are waiting. I approach a docking bay and press the door's control. It's locked but there's a ring-bell feature that I utilize. A few seconds later, a gravelly voice responds from the door control:

 _"Yes?"_

"Delivery." I respond, my helmet's voice changer doing its magic, making my voice even more deep and gravelly than this guy's.

 _"Come in."_

The control panel's interface switches from red to green and I press it, opening the door. I walk into a small docking bay. It's just a small staging area for cargo, attached to the Citadel's port authority so it can be inspected before being unpacked and distributed across the Citadel. Thankfully I need not pass through any customs to get here, though the one C-Sec customs enforcement officer that I came across tried pointedly to ignore my presence. An additional bribe ensures that they'll give me some privacy for a few minutes at least.

Once inside the small docking bay, the runway attaching it to the buyers' ship standing on one side of the room and the door to the port authority on the other, I do a quick bearing check. No cargo, save for a few crates that might have been here before. The buyers are all armored and almost all batarian. Hm. I can't help but feel suspicious.

Wow. Check your privilege Splicer. Damn, I need to do a deep dive into overt racial/species biases that I might have when I get home. Though all these buyers are armored, not all are armed. In fact, the only armed individual is the only human of the group. The batarians are all wearing rust colored armor with black painted markings on them. Uniformed in a sense. Most sit around lazily, but one stands near the door panel to my right.

The human of the group, a tall, lithe man with broad shoulders and strong arms is armored differently. He's wearing a combination of light and medium armors, asymmetrically, such that his left arm, left chest, left shoulder and both legs are armored with crimson medium armor pieces and his right arm, chest, and his stomach are armored in light black armor. It's a very Zaeed look. As for weapons, he has a pair of real knives or daggers sheathed on his chest plate. They're curved, very long and look razor sharp. In addition to those two large blades, he has what looks like a monomolecular dagger on the back of his belt and a few smaller, probably throwing knives strapped on his belt and forearms. What a douche. He looks like a douche as well. A scary one, but a douche nonetheless. He has greasy slicked back raven black hair, pale skin crisscrossed with numerous thin scars, a bony and clean shaven face, and most unsettling of all his left iris is noticeably red while his left is blue. Heterochromia. The human smiles at me.

"Well, well, well." He looks left and right to his companions before bowing to me. "What an honor. The infamous Splicer, in the flesh."

"Stiv Kay." I say, not phrasing it as a question. The sooner I get out of here, the better. I open my OT and begin to run my encryption of the message Vaga sent me.

"I am." Stiv Kay responds, flashing a toothy grin, revealing a gold tooth near the front. "I must say I am quite the fan."

"I'll need some proof of identity." I say, ignoring him.

"This proof enough?" He says, drawing one of his long knives.

"… Why would…? Can you just show me an ID or something?"

He rolls his eyes. "No fun. Fine. Here."

He opens his OT and displays his Citadel visa.

I roll my eyes. "Payment?"

"Name first." Stiv Kay responds.

I shrug and open my OT. I hold my arm out and show him the interface. Stiv Kay approaches and presses on it and stares at the screen. He nods, satisfied.

"Perfect. Pay the gentleman." Stiv Kay says, walking towards the runway that leads to their ship.

A nearby batarian starts fabricating a credit chit to give to me as payment. I raise my arm to delete the message with the name and see it's still open. I mean, it's only natural that I read the only two words in that message, revealing the name that these guys are paying for.

Oh. Uh oh.

"Wait!" I shout, holding up my hand just as the batarian is holding the credit chit out to me. "Wait, wait, wait. Hold on I need to think."

Stiv Kay stops and the batarians all look confused. They all stare at me. There's a long stretch of silence as I try to think of what to do now.

"Well?" Stiv Kay asks with a frown. "What is it?"

"Uh…" I mumble, looking back at the name displayed on my OT. "Well shit. Now I'm at a loss here. Uh. One sec."

I turn around, as if that'll make a difference, and call Vaga. He answers pretty quickly.

 _"Hey! How'd it go, buddy? You on your way?"_ Vaga asks, sounding pleased.

"Not yet." I respond, glancing over my shoulder. "So, I'm in a bit of a predicament. What would happen if, say, I didn't give them the name?"

 _"Well, hypothetically, if you didn't give them what they paid you for that'd be stealing in an abstract sort of way. Though if you didn't accept payment that might be better. Either way, chances are that you and I will both be killed for defying the Shadow Broker, so that's not really ideal. Why do you ask?"_

I click my tongue. "No reason. I'm just in a bit of a pickle. I know the person whose name I just gave to these guys. And they do already have it."

 _"Ah I see. Well. Alternatively. You could kill them all. I'd just say the deal went south. Though that would put quite the damper on my reputation, and I'd need to pay a fine to the Shadow Broker of ten times the value of the information we're selling. Bad faith deals are not good for business, you see."_ Vaga says, nonchalantly. _"But I trust you. Just follow you gut and let me know what happens when you get here."_

I hang up and consider my options. I have a deep, nagging feeling that I've inadvertently stumbled my way into a Mass Effect continuum sort of plotline here. If I don't let them walk away with the name, I risk the continuum getting messed up and certain events from not occurring. That would be bad. But also, I have a bad feeling that turning over the name to this two-colored bozo behind me will have negative outcomes.

Worst of all, I don't know what those outcomes will be or the result of my not getting involved because for the life of me I can't remember the connection between all of these things. It's been seven years, at least, since I've played Mass Effect 2, let alone payed any close attention to what people are saying to each other.

Stiv Kay… What did he do again? If I kill him, how will that effect the story? Ugh. Crap. This is a problem. I'm really stuck here.

I hear Stiv Kay clear his throat behind me. "You've been standing there for more than a minute. Several minutes. Is there some kind of problem? We have the money."

I look back at him. "Could you hold on? I'm working through a quandary."

He nods and raises his hands in acquiescence. "Take your time. I'm not in any rush."

"Thank you." I say, facing away from them again. "Fuck, now what am I forgetting?"

I remember the gist of this companion's storyline. Their loyalty mission… This probably has something to do with his family? But what was it? Not his son, no. His wife? Oh. Hm. If I give Stiv Kay this information, and what I think will happen happens, then I'm directly responsible. Now that, I can't accept.

I turn back around. "Okay! I have come to a conclusion."

"And?" Stiv Kay asks, looking unconcerned with whatever that conclusion is.

"Unfortunately, I can't in good conscience let you leave now that you have that name, so if all of you would like to leave the room while I kill this guy, feel free." I say gesturing to the batarians.

Everyone looks at each other, confused.

Stiv Kay shakes his head. "Grab him."

The batarians don't hesitate, several of them dive for me. Quick to react and competent, they manage to grab me before I can draw my gun. I have one grabbing each of my arms and a third circling behind us and wrapping his arms around my neck. Well isn't this a pickle? Stiv Kay is already moving, coming towards me with those big knives.

There is nothing more unsettling than seeing someone charging at you with huge knives, I challenge you to think of something more disturbing. I bring both of my legs up, letting the batarians all take my weight, seeing which will cave first. The one on my right stumbles and loses his grip on my arm. I thrust my foot down onto his leg hard, knocking him to the ground and freeing my arm completely. I quickly draw my pistol, shoot the batarian on my left three times in the gut before turning and throwing my weight around to swing the one on my back around. I do so just in time as Stiv Kay was just leaping into the air to spear my chest with his knives. His knives bury into the batarian instead and I throw them both off of me.

Spinning around, I shoot the two other batarians before my gun overheats. I holster it and draw the second one, finishing them off. Stiv Kay then tackles me from the side, thrusting one of his knives into my hip and the other into my shoulder as he does. The armor does its job and stops them from completely impaling me, but they do penetrate somewhat. With his blades piercing my hip on one side and shoulder on the other, and with him laying on top of me, pinning my right arm underneath me, I'm in a bit of a tight position.

Kay shifts forward and raises a third blade to stab at my throat when the room is suddenly filled with red light.

" _Alarm, alarm. You are now detained. Your vehicle is being impounded. You have broken Citadel penal code 112A and have used deadly force without authorization."_ Avina's voice announces through the room. _"Remain where you are and cease all action immediately."_

Stiv Kay sneers and presses the blade he's holding to my throat before cursing. He wheels back and gets to his feet. I rip out the blade in my hip and toss it aside, getting to my feet to give chase. But just as I do, a knife flies into my foot, just at the point where my boots are unarmored. I cry out in pain as I feel my tendons and bones separate before I stumble and fall on my face. That knife was not only perfectly aimed at one of the few weak points in my armor, but timed perfectly too as it caught my mid step. I grunt and take a few deep breaths before hauling myself back up to my feet, ignoring the agony in my foot and hip. But by now Stiv Kay has gained a solid 20 meters distance from me. I hiss in pain through my teeth, spraying spit onto the inside of my helmet as I hobble forwards anyways. I can't let him get away.

I see him reach the ship and get into it, shutting the door behind him. Thank goodness it's impounded now. The ship is probably locked there.

An explosion suddenly fills the gangway to the ship with flame and flying metal shrapnel and I get thrown back a bit from the directed force of it traveling back from the tunnel. The smoke and flames clear instantly as the ship suddenly starts going, tearing the tunnel off with it still attached to its side, like a car driving off with the gas pump still in it. The damaged tunnel is suddenly decompressed as all the atmosphere in it and in the room I'm in rush out into the vacuum of space.

I feel myself get pulled toward the opening but thankfully an emergency system takes over and shuts the gangway off within a few seconds. I still slam against the door with impressive force, enough to take the wind completely out of me.

I lay on the floor for a few seconds before groaning and getting to my feet. I hurry over to the door, using Telekinesis to retrieve the credit chit for the job's payment along the way, and I use my OT to hack it, still wheezing and gasping from having the air knocked out of me, stars and spots dancing across my vision. A few seconds later, the door opens, and I stumble out. I can't let him get away, but there isn't much I can do. C-Sec will be descending on this place in a matter of seconds anyways. Maybe even less time than that as I can hear their boots stomping into the metal floor of the Citadel not far off. I quickly take a few deep breaths and gather my bearings, activating Aero Dash and dashing across the street to a darker alley between two stores. I have to catch myself against the wall as I come to a stop, putting my weight against it for a second. I look back and see a few C-Sec officers gathering at the door I just came from. I watch them for a second, trying to see if they saw me, but none of them are looking around for me, so I muster my vigor and hurry on.

Once at a nearby cab station, I decide to just cut my losses and I call a cab for home. Once in the cab, I curse in frustration and pound my fist on my thigh in anger. This proves a bad idea, as shocks of pain run down my leg to my still injured foot.

Damn.

I activate Afterburn, feeling a surge of heat and energy wash through me as my cells burn EVE. I feel my foot get hot and then the pain subsides, and the same occurs in my hip and shoulder, until all that's left is a dull, albeit uncomfortable throbbing. I deactivate my healing plasmid and sigh, leaning back in my chair.

That dirty fuck. I can't believe I let him get the better of me. I'm so damn stupid sometimes. I've been letting myself get cocky. I can't let that happen again. How can I fix this?

I sigh and call Vaga.

" _Hey, what happened?"_ Vaga asks, sounding eager but also a bit concerned.

"Things went south. I killed most of them, but one got away with the name. I did grab the payment, however." I say, feeling suddenly as exhausted as I should have been feeling this whole time.

" _Hm. Well that's not ideal. But getting the payment is good news. A least the Shadow Broker gets their cut. As for us, I think I'll need to do some damage control. Who's this person to you? The person whose name we just sold?"_ Vaga asks and I can hear the frown in his voice.

"It's a bit complicated." I reply, not wishing to explain further. "But I need you to do me a favor."

" _What's that?"_ Vaga asks.

"I need you to just warn him. Thane Krios. I just need you to tell him that Stiv Kay is coming. I don't know exactly what's going to happen, but can you just warn him?" I ask, resting my head in my hand.

" _Uh, that's pretty unorthodox. I can try but most of my contacts are Shadow Broker. If they find out I'm warning this Thane Krios and they look into this botched deal, they'll know something's up. I will do it, but I'm going to do it carefully. I like you, but I like living more."_ Vaga says. He's silent for a moment before he continues. _"I trust you, you know. And I do a lot for you. The least you could do is trust me."_

I nod. "Yeah, I know. This Thane Krios. He's… a friend, abstractly speaking. It's complicated, Vaga. It's not a thing about trust, I just don't really understand it myself either."

" _It's fine. I'll get what you asked done and I'll let you know when it's done… you don't sound so good. Maybe you should just head home. We can hang out some other time. And when we do I promise I won't send you on a job beforehand."_ Vaga says, lightness returning to his voice somewhat.

I force a small laugh, out of courtesy. "I'd appreciate that, though I do like to work for you as well. You always have something interesting for me."

" _Damn straight. Goodnight, Splicer."_ Vaga says.

"Night." I hang up. Before I forget to, I upload the credit chit's credits to my account and then transfer it all to Vaga. I botched this one. I won't take payment for missions I fuck up… though that was a lot of money.

I sigh and put my head back against the seat. What a damn mess.

…

I rarely dream. I don't sleep heavily enough to dream, nor long enough to fall into deep sleep. I tend to sleep only lightly, with frequent breaks that last a few seconds. I wake only long enough, basically, for me to look around the room and listen for a moment. Sometimes I hear something or see something, and it takes me a long time to go back to sleep afterwards.

But things are a bit different tonight. I've been sleeping for longer periods recently; probably because I've been getting used to living here, as opposed to a cleared-out Rapture hotel, where I would move to a different room every evening. I often would move to a particular room, leave it trapped to hell and then sleep in a different room's closet nearby, just to throw off any splicers who came looking for me.

Usually nothing happened, but I had had more than a few close calls and in Rapture there was no such thing as being too cautious or too paranoid. Most splicers didn't need to sleep anyways. They took tonics that accelerated cellular activity, so they could sleep standing up and walking, or even cocoon themselves. Some even took tonics that eliminated the need for sleep. I was tempted to take some of those options a few times, but I think lack of sleep was a contributing factor to madness.

Tonight, thanks to a few weeks of getting used to my environment and thanks to the waves of exhaustion washing over me, I fell asleep nearly immediately and very deeply.

Initially I thought that I wasn't dreaming. Just blackness is all I saw. But a sound, a very familiar one, immediately shocked that out of me. It was a loud, high pitched beep that echoes into the void. Then silence. Then another, shrill beep. Then silence. Then a third one, this one with a shorter break of silence. Then I hear the next sound, creeping out of the void. The ringing, dull at first like tinnitus. Slowly it crescendos, getting louder, more incessant, and then painful. The shrill ringing is broken up by hard, shrill beeps that get faster and faster.

Then the smell. God. Metallic, fishy, rotten. The anxiety overwhelms me. I can feel it reaching out to me.

Then I wake, in a sticky, cold sweat. My sheets and blankets are scattered around in a mess and I find that I left a pretty embarrassing me-shaped sweat stain on the bed. I check the time. Well, it's early, but not so early that I'd be weird for being up and about. I get up, take a slow shower, get dressed and head into the kitchen.

I found out you can cook for a quarian, you know. But it's really task-intensive. Think the usual cross-contamination and sanitary measures you might take and then multiply those times 8,000. But if it means that Nata gets to eat something other than toothpaste then I'll take the steps needed. I bought some quarian friendly food, mostly turian produced, and get to preparing it. I wear gloves and a breather and a hairnet. I cook inside of a weird bubble sort of thing. And when I'm finished, I put the food into an eating bubble. I nod to myself satisfied and then start cooking myself a much more easily prepared breakfast.

I hear the door to the guest room open and Nata comes out, stretching. She suddenly winces and yelps, holding her side.

"You good?" I ask, looking at her, somewhat concerned.

She grunts and nods. "Yeah. Getting shot hurts pretty bad. It was my first time, you know."

I scoff. "Well, I was going to say get used to it, but that might be a bit messed up to say."

She laughs and I hear her sit at the island behind me. "Mm. You cooked for me!"

"By way of a thank you, for saving me." I say, looking back at her with a smile. "Try not to get used to it, though. It took me two hours just to make that… And you're still scanning it for bacteria aren't you?"

Nata looks up, her OT alight and hovering over the bubble. "Well, duh. I got shot and I'm on antibiotics. It's not like I can afford to get foodborne illness either… Well, would you look at that? It's clean!"

I laugh and shake my head and refocus on cooking for myself while Nata enjoys a rare solid meal. At some point I get a bit lost in my head. I feel tired. I should have slept more, but I wasn't going back to sleep after that. Maybe I should see someone, talk through what I saw. It's weird. I can't remember what I saw, really. It's like, burned into my mind. But whenever I try to think about it all that I can recall is total blackness. And the thing's face. _That,_ I can remember, pretty vividly. But everything else not so much.

Wait that's not true. I can also recall that whenever that happens, I get dragged to some other universe. Maybe that's why I got so anxious and I woke up so anxious. It was just a nightmare, a recollection. But I was, honestly, afraid that I'd get dragged somewhere else… I need to look into this more, maybe.

"Why do you do that?" Nata asks behind me.

"Do what?" I ask, somewhat startled out of my trance by the unprompted question.

"You, uh… Is it talking to yourself?" Nata asks, looking up at me. "Or are you like thinking out loud?"

Taken off guard I'm confused for a moment. "Was I? Sorry, it wasn't talking to myself. I got into the habit of thinking out loud, like voicing my thoughts."

"Why?"

So that I wouldn't feel so alone all the time trapped in Rapture. "I don't know. It helps solidify them, I think. Keeps me from second guessing myself… what was I doing, exactly?"

She shrugs. "Just kind of mumbling, I didn't catch all of it. But if you were saying you need psychiatric help, I agree."

I scoff. "Well gee, thanks."

She tilts her head at me. "Seriously, there's no shame in see a counselor or psychiatrist when something's bothering you."

I shake my head and plate my food. "Mm hm."

"Oh, so the big strong man is afraid to talk about his feelings, is that it?" Nata asks, crossing her arms. "Grow up. It's not unmanly to maintain your mental health."

I give her a look and then just shake my head. Despite the truth of what she says, I still feel embarrassed. The fact that I feel embarrassed I think makes me feel more embarrassed.

Nata sighs. "Look. You've had a hard time. I'm… I'm sorry. If you need help finding someone, I've heard that the Consort is quite popular and effective as a counselor. Most people I hear just want to speak with her rather than the… other thing."

I nod, intrigued. "Uh yeah. That actually sounds like a pretty good idea. I'll go today… How was the food?"

She sits back and puts a hand on her stomach. "Wonderful! Though to be honest, I might have to spend the whole day in the bathroom. My body is just not used to solid meals."

 **Later…**

I walk up to the Consort's Chambers, across from the Citadel embassies on the Presidium. I take a deep breath and head inside. The interior looks, more or less, exactly like I recall it does in the games. And pleasantly, just like in the game, Nelyna is there to greet me.

When I enter, she already has a smile on, as is probably expected of her as the greeter. But upon seeing me, she beams and rushes up to me. When she smiles like that it's like she glows. I'm sure everyone knows or has known that sort of person that just radiates positivity and loveliness. Being near her is addictive.

Nelyna throws her arms over my shoulders and around my neck, giving me a hug. She's shorter than me so I squat down a bit in order to give her a better hug. Her cheek touches mine, and it feels warm and smooth. I feel her hands on my back and then one comes up and touches the back of my head, stroking my hair a bit. My hands are on the small of her back. Her waist is very small.

I suddenly realize that I haven't been breathing. So, I pull away and Nelyna lets me, still smiling up at me. I try to subtly take a breath but it's not so subtle. Okay. Pull it together now.

"Hey Splicer!" Nelyna says with her ever-bright smile. She puts her hands on her hips. "It'd be too much to hope that you're here just to visit me huh?"

I smile, embarrassed. "Unfortunately no, I was hoping to speak with the Consort. But I'll be sure to come visit more often."

"Please do! Unfortunately, there's a 14-18 month wait at the moment for an appointment with the Consort. But as you may know, the Consort accepts or declines clients on a case-by-case basis, so the wait time might be a little shorter." Nelyna says, giving me a sympathetic look.

I sigh. "I figured it'd be a long wait. There's nothing you can do?"

Nelyna shakes her head but pauses. "Well, I could just let her know that you're here. If you wait, she might see you. But that's a long shot. Sha'ira rarely sees… well, walk-ins."

I smile and take a seat in the waiting area, while Nelyna returns to her greeter's podium near the entrance. Shortly afterwards, an acolyte approaches me and offers me a drink. I get a water and sit quietly, sipping it. Some time later, I feel a hand gently shake my shoulder and I realize I'd fallen asleep at some point and my half-full glass of water is sitting nearby on a table. I look around the room and then up at Nelyna. She's smiling at me. Though that is by no means atypical, this one is a telling smile. She nods towards the stairway at the back which I know lead to the Consort's chambers.

I raise an eyebrow at her. "She'll see me?"

"Sha'ira said she's had an interest in meeting you and the timing is fortuitous. We're actually going to be closing soon and the Consort sometimes stays late to see a client." Nelyna says, clasping her hands together in front of her hips.

I rub my eyes. "You're closing soon? How long was I asleep?"

Nelyna smiles kindly. "You seemed tired when you came in. I asked the acolytes to let you sleep. You slept for about 3 hours."

"Jesus." I groan, rubbing my face. "Well that's embarrassing. She'll see me now?"

Nelyna gestures towards the stairway and smiles.

Why am I so nervous? I get up, stretch and walk towards the stairway. A few acolytes and clients still remain at this late hour and most of them watch me as I walk by, either because I'm going to see the elusive Consort or because I've been sleeping in the waiting area for the last 3 hours.

I walk up the stairs and take a deep breath before I open the Consort's room. The door opens with a quiet hiss and Sha'ira's very spacious chambers are revealed. Sha'ira lounges on the couch on the far wall, with her legs up on the couch and her arm resting on the back of the couch. She turns her head and looks at me as I enter the room. She doesn't smile, but she's not frowning either. She's looking at me with intense focus. I feel like her eyes are boring right through me.

She lowers her feet to the floor and stands, sauntering towards me as I approach her. I stop when we're a few feet apart, but she takes another two steps, until she's just inches from me.

"Splicer." She says, looking me in the eyes with quiet intensity. "Nelyna told me that you wished to speak with me."

"Nelyna also told me that you wanted to speak with me." I say back, refusing to be taken off guard by her right now. No doubt she's uniquely capable of seeing into the hearts of others.

Sha'ira smirks, coyly. "You are glib for a human. Though very young to be running about the Citadel, causing trouble and solving as many problems as you create. I trust though that you had a reason for coming here."

I nod as she takes a few steps back from me and moves towards the couch. I follow. "Yes. I won't mince words. I have some problems that I'm not capable of solving myself. I was hoping you could help me."

"I see. Often our greatest enemies are ourselves. Perhaps that is the result of our higher levels of understanding as to what causes us the most harm." Sha'ira muses as she takes a seat on the couch and gestures for me to sit as well. "I sense that you are confused. You don't understand your own problems, no?"

I shrug and sit. "I suppose not."

"What exactly is troubling you?" Sha'ira asks, looking at me and sitting closely.

I think for a moment, compiling a list in my head. "Well, I feel excessively paranoid at times. I usually sleep for only short periods and very lightly but even going to sleep has been getting tough. When I do sleep I tend to sleep longer than normal, but when I do I have nightmares."

"What do you see in your nightmares?"

"A skull." I respond, zoning out a bit. "Made half of metal and half of bone."

"I see." Sha'ira says, thinking. "If you like, to better understand you, we can meld our minds. That way, I can see what you see and understand what you are feeling."

I look at her, warily. "It won't harm you, will it?"

She gives a small laugh. "Not at all."

I take a breath and think on it before I nod. "Okay, sure. We can try it."

Sha'ira shifts in her seat so that she's facing me and looks me in the eyes, not breaking the gaze for anything. I start to feel… entranced in a way as we continue to make this uninterrupted eye contact. After a long while, Sha'ira gently places her hands on the sides of my head, her fingers touching my temples.

"Clear your mind." Sha'ira says, stating it like an order. And on command, my mind empties. "Embrace eternity."

Sha'ira's eyes go black and my vision does as well.

…

I'm floating in darkness again. But this time I'm not alone. I look over at Sha'ira. She smiles at me calmly and she takes a hold of my hand. The darkness slowly melts away and I'm…

I'm at home. Like home, home. My house back before Rapture. I'm just sitting in my room. God, I haven't thought about this in so long. I stopped doing that before long in Rapture. I look around my room, like it's a new place.

"This is your home?" Sha'ira asks.

"It's where I was born and where I spent my childhood." I respond, looking around the room: at the various knick-knacks I kept on my desk nearby, the posters on my wall, the plants I kept on my windowsill, and the multitude of blankets and pillows on my bed.

Sha'ira smiles at me. "It's calm."

I nod. "Yes."

"Let's move on." Sha'ira says. "I've learned what I need to from here. Though it does perplex me."

The walls and furniture of the room begin to melt away. I don't say anything and let it fade away from my view everything diving back into darkness. I think I'm ready to let go of that.

"That's good. Moving on is healthy." Sha'ira says, before looking at me with a smile. "Nothing is hidden here."

I sigh. "I don't tend to keep anything to myself anyways."

The darkness melts away again and Sha'ira and I are bathed in dark blue light. I look at Sha'ira, who looks around, confused. We're in the large ballroom of the hotel I lived in for most of the time I was in Rapture. The ballroom is huge, high ceilinged with a large viewing balcony wrapping around the room above. The far wall of the ballroom is a huge glass wall and beyond it the open ocean is before us.

"Where… What is this place?" Sha'ira asks, confused. "I sense that you think this is also home?"

I nod. "It was while I was here. This is where I grew up."

I hear a sound behind me and I see… myself. I enter the room, pushing a handcart full of Splicer corpses. I'm thin, lean and pale. My hair is grown down to my shoulders but tied into a ponytail. I have a patchy beard as well. My clothes are filthy. I have a belt with a pistol, several EVE hypos tucked into loops on the back like bullets on a pistol belt. I'm carrying a shotgun in my hand and I look tired.

I watch myself shrug a backpack off my shoulders and I go sit on a large cushiony chair. I watch myself sigh, open a pack of cigarettes and light one.

I watch Sha'ira walk over to that cartful of corpses, horror plain on her face.

"What are they?" She asks, her voice somewhat shaken.

"They're splicers." I respond. "Watch."

Sha'ira turns around and looks at me, then at my past self. My past self clears his throat and puts an old school headset on, picking a microphone off the table next to the chair. He presses the button on the microphone, takes the cigarette out of his mouth and says, "Open main entrance, ballroom."

There's a mechanical sound that echoes through the ballroom and then the sound of a metal door cranking open. Sha'ira and I turn to a shuttering metal door opening from in front of the main entrance to the ballroom. Heavy, pounding footsteps start echoing through the room and I shiver. But my past self just continues calmly smoking his cigarette.

The heavy footsteps drown everything out for a time, but the running footfalls of small, bare feet approaching become apparent as well. A Little Sister runs into the room, syringe in hand and eyes glowing fiendishly. Then a second Little Sister enters, and then a third.

I look back at my past self, who curses, putting out his cigarette on the armrest of the chair. He picks his microphone back up and speaks into it quickly. I lean over to Sha'ira.

"It's really uncommon for multiple Little Sisters to be in once place at a time. Usually it's one Sister per Big Daddy, but sometimes a stronger Big Daddy will have two with him. This one had three." I explain, leaning over to Sha'ira with my arms crossed.

Sha'ira looks at me confused but doesn't say anything, looking back at the entrance. Her eyes go wide as a larger than average Big Daddy comes into the room. He has a rocket launcher on his left shoulder and rather than the normal drill arm, he has a large diamond edge saw, meant for cutting steel or concrete. The saw is already spinning slowly when he enters the room and he looks around the room cautiously.

He spots my past self immediately and gives a menacing, aggressive growl and a spin of his saw before slowly backing towards the Little Sisters who are already harvesting the pile of corpses on the cart.

Sha'ira grabs my arm. "We should go."

I look back at myself, staring wide eyed at the Big Daddy and back towards the entrance to the ballroom. I look at Sha'ira and nod. "If you wish."

The room fades away and we're surrounded by darkness again.

"What are you?" Sha'ira asks me.

I smirk. "I'm a splicer."

Sha'ira, who's been in my head and who's understood what's inside, gives me a surprised and then a sad look. She puts her hand on my cheek. "You… poor thing."

I feel myself tear up a bit and then a nearly deafening, high pitched beep rings through the room. I look around alarmed.

"We need to go. We need to stop." I say, panicked.

Sha'ira shakes her head. "This is part of the process. We need to see… what? Wait…"

She looks out into the darkness and I look too. Distantly, I see a faint red light. It pulses brightly with the next beep, and then dims again. As the beeps get faster, the pulses continue, and the light continues to get brighter and brighter. Finally, blessedly, the beeping stops, and the light reduces to a faint dot again.

Suddenly, a blast of thunderous, deep, robotic roaring echoes through the darkness and the light gets overwhelmingly bright and a face appears behind it.

Sha'ira takes a shocked breath in and I feel her hand on my arm.

…

I take a sudden breath and look around the room. We're back in the Sha'ira's chambers. I look at Sha'ira. Her face is glistening with sweat and she has her hand pressed to her forehead. She falls back but catches herself.

"Are you okay?" I ask, concerned, getting to my feet but stumbling when I realize that I'm also sweaty and lightheaded. "Whoa. Uh. Do you need some water?"

She holds up her hand. "No, I'm fine. Thank you. That was close."

I laugh nervously. "Yeah. But it was just a dream, we were fine."

Sha'ira, still a little breathless, holds her hand up again. "No. It was more than that. That was something else. It wasn't just a dream. You're right to be afraid."

I stare at her stunned for a while. "Uh… what?"

"First, you are unlike anything I've ever experienced before. Your past is… inexplicable. I don't entirely understand it. Frankly it may be beyond comprehension. Second, your pain and past are unconscionable. I am sorry that you have suffered but I respect your resilience. Finally, that thing you see in your nightmares is… you're not wrong that you are experience nightmares. But you are not correct either. I sensed its consciousness and it is somehow connected to your own consciousness. That thing is real, Splicer."

 **A Few Moments Later…**

I step out of the Consort's Chambers and take a deep breath of the cool air. Well. That didn't help at all.

"Hey!" I hear nearby. I look up at see Nelyna coming towards me. She's wearing casual clothing, simple black leggings and a t-shirt.

I smile at her as she approaches. "Nelyna. Good to see you."

She reaches me and smiles as well. "How did it go?"

I sigh. "Uh… well, it could have gone better. What are you up to?"

She brightens when I ask. "Actually, I was waiting for you! I was wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner or something?"

"I would love to, Nelyna." I saw, not attempting to stifle the embarrassingly large smile that comes to my face.

Nelyna beams. "Great! I know a great place close by! We can walk… Oh shoot! Hey sorry I forgot something back inside. Let me go grab it, I'll be right back!"

I nod and watch Nelyna run back around the corner to the employee's entrance. I lean against the wall and close my eyes for a second. What a strange day. I then hear a muffled sound. It's unmistakably a gunshot. I look up and frown in the direction I hear the sound. Distantly, I see a figure leaving Barla Von's office. Uh oh.

I head that way, drawing my pistol from the front holster beneath my jacket. I didn't see where the figure went off, but it looked like a turian maybe. Once I get to Barla Von's office door, I peek in through the open doorway. The lights are off, and I see a dark shape near the desk. I go to turn my OT light on when I notice a bit of movement in the corner of the office. Suddenly, there is a bright flash of light from that corner and I quickly shoot twice and duck into cover. I turn on my OT light and then pop back out of cover, aiming into the office. Nothing in the corner where I shot. I quickly sweep my light and pistol around the room. Other than Barla Von's corpse, nothing in here.

I holster my pistol cautiously and I'm suddenly aware of an overwhelmingly awful smell. I gag and close my helmet around my head to keep the stink out. I shine my light towards Barla Von's corpse. That explains the smell. Blood and viscera are scattered around the room. Barla Von's entire head and part of his torso are gone, as if blasted by a shotgun perhaps or a maybe hit with a powerful biotic blast.

I approach the corpse, carefully examining it. Damn. Well, this is probably my fault. I left that chip here. I wouldn't be surprised if this was the work of some Shadow Broker assassin. Maybe I can ask Vaga about it. I should also check in with Ram. He might be in danger as a result of this as well. Most importantly though, Barla Von is semi-kind of important in the first hour or so of Mass Effect 1. If I recall correctly, Barla Von tells Shepard about Wrex I believe… But I know Shepard can just run into Wrex at some point as well so…

I hear a gasp behind me. I spin around, drawing my pistol, and dropping to a knee with my pistol readied. I see Nelyna standing in the doorway, hand covering her mouth and disgust on her face.

"Sorry." I say, holstering my gun and getting to my feet.

"Did… Did you kill him?" Nelyna asks, looking sickened.

I look back at Barla Von. "No, I heard a gunshot so I came to see what happened. Somebody shot him or… blew him up or something."

"Their suits are pressurized." Nelyna says, sounding like she's trying to stifle gags. She turns around to not face the corpse

"Ooooh." I say, looking at Barla Von's half exploded corpse. I guess when their suits rupture, like from a bullet, their suits violently tear open and blow them up a little bit. Interesting.

"Don't move." I hear a deep turian voice say.

I spin around again, drawing my pistol. Before I can draw it all the way though and take aim, the turian is already shooting. My shield breaks and a bullet hits me in the head before I can shoot back. The hit to the head makes me lose my balance and fall to the ground. My ears are ringing and I start seeing spots.

"Trying to shoot me, Splicer?" The voice says again. I look up at the turian, and don't recognize him. "That'll be a nice charge to add to the murder charge. You're under arrest."

"He didn't kill him!" Nelyna shouts, hands up. "He didn't do it!"

"Don't think you're off the hook either." The turian says, pistol readied and pointed squarely at me. I see now that he's clad in C-Sec armor. "You're both under arrest for murder."

 **Meanwhile…**

"Is it done?" Miranda asks, leaning against the frame of a window, looking down at the gathering of C-Sec officers near the small office.

 _"Yes. They have him in custody… See they're taking him now."_ Rasa responds from a position closer to the office.

Miranda leans forward and watches as Splicer is dragged out of the office, easily identifiable even from a distance by his head to toe black armor. He seems to be resisting somewhat, his arms bound behind his back. The two C-Sec officers drag him to a C-Sec prisoner transport van. Suddenly, Splicer, impressively, throws both officers off of himself and turns to face a turian C-Sec officer who was following the trio. They appear to have a heated discussion, as Splicer doesn't do anything else other than face the turian and lean forward as if he's shouting. The turian is gesturing firmly. Then another turian comes up and punches Splicer and shoves him back into the transport van. The other turian faces the turian that Splicer was shouting at and seems to be telling him off.

"What's happening?" Miranda asks.

 _"Splicer threw off the officers taking him to the van to yell at a turian officer, named Garrus. Another officer named Chellick hit Splicer and threw him in the prison van. Chellick then started getting upset with Garrus, telling him to stop sympathizing with murderers."_ Rasa responds. _"Could these two be the turians that went to Minuteman for Splicer?"_

"Possible." Miranda responds, knowing for a fact that at one of them isn't involved. "But this'll keep Splicer busy and in one place for a few days until we get everything prepared."

Miranda watches the prisoner transport. Another prisoner is loaded onto it. No consequence, whoever that was. Just collateral damage; caught in the crossfire. The prisoner transport flies off as well as most of the officers. One of the turians remains and steps off to the side. Miranda ends the call with Rasa as she gets a new incoming call.

 _"It's done."_ Decian Chellick says to Miranda.

"I know. The money's already in your account. Fine work, thus far, though I would have liked to know your plan ahead of time." Miranda responds, stepping away from the window and walking to the luxurious but sparsely stocked kitchen of the apartment she's renting.

 _"It worked is what matters."_ Chellick responds. _"What's next?"_

"More will be in your account in a few days' time." Miranda responds, pouring herself a glass of wine. "Keep Splicer in custody for that long and make sure that ship stays impounded as well. Do that, and we'll overlook the slight you did us just a few days ago."

 _"I'll get it done, but I'm not sure what you're referring to."_ Chellick responds sounding cool.

"No? Getting your former partner involved in our operations last week was not part of the plan, Chellick. And I hope you know, that you have put his life in jeopardy as a result. We are not pleased. But we'll overlook that, just this once. You've done good work for us, otherwise." Miranda says, swishing the wine around in her glass.

Chellick is silent for a moment. _"I need to maintain appearances, Ms. Lawson. Not reporting Cerberus on my station, when I become aware of it as a customs detective? People would start asking questions."_

Miranda scoffs. "You give yourself too much credit old man. I sincerely doubt anybody is keeping any kind of close eye on you."

 _"You'd be surprised."_

 **A/N:**

 **First of all, thanks for reading this week. The next update will take a bit longer than normal. Now, going forward, if anyone posts reviews anonymously in response to any of my Black Lives Matter comments your review will be deleted. The review section is for the specific purpose of leaving ongoing criticisms/critique of my story. If you'd like to speak on the matter of race, directly message me.**

 **Now the following is addressing a specific individual. If you are not this individual, feel free to move on with your life if you wish. To the specific anonymous reviewer who posted a racist, pro-white response to my previous chapter:**

 **1\. Before I even begin, you are not going to "get lynched, metaphorically or literally," for what you said. You aren't going to get lynched for being white or racist. I'd even make the argument that you are incapable of being lynched, because you are white. You see, lynching was a method of murder by torture that targeted black people. You can be lynched for being black, sure. But as a white person, hidden behind both anonymity and a profile, you'll be fucking fine. So next time, don't worry so much about being anonymous. Even if you get your profile reported and your ass chewed out for being racist and using racially charged language (like lynching), you can just make a new profile and continue being anonymously racist.**

 **2\. If you think it's necessary to anonymously post your opinion, and acknowledge that your opinion "would get you lynched," then you are acknowledging the social and moral incorrectness of your words. You might as well have just tattooed "racist imbecile" on your face. Your opinion is wrong and it is racist and clearly you know that it is (racist choice of wording aside). Your review has been deleted. Going forward any review which I feel negatively impacts the conversation will be deleted, especially if they are anonymous. As stated earlier, the review section is for reviews of this story. To you, anonymous reviewer, are a coward for hiding behind the internet to post your racist bullshit. Yes, I am angry. Partly because they chose to remain anonymous. But primarily because they didn't take up my challenge. They didn't reach out to me directly and attempt a discourse. They didn't give me the chance to try and prove them wrong. If you don't challenge your beliefs in the court of public opinion and through discourse with your peers, you're wrong, whoever you are. That goes for everyone.**

 **3\. I don't care that you don't feel personally responsible for slavery. And as bad as slavery was, our society continues to benefit from black lives, particularly you who I assume are a white person. If you're white, you live your life more easily than a black person does. Period. You don't fear for your life when you are pulled over by police. If we're talking numbers, a black person in Minneapolis is 7 times more likely to have force used against them by police than a white person (NYT). Black people are 2.5 times more likely to be killed by police during an encounter (ALJ). 1 in 1000 black men can expect to be killed by police (PNAS). Of all traffic stops done by SFPD, 26% were black even though black people only account for 5% of the population of San Francisco. 28% of traffic stops in LA were black even though black people account for only 9% of the overall population of LA (Guardian). Speaking as a white person myself, I don't care that you, another white person (I assume), don't feel personally guilty for slavery. But how can you make any claim to being a moral person, when our society** _ **tries**_ **to target blacks? So, frankly, fuck your feelings.**

 **4\. More people traffic these stories daily than my twitter page. So, I'll use whatever fucking platform I want to say what I want to say. And, unlike you, I have "[learned] some history." You ever think to challenge your understanding of history with other sources, mate? If you think emancipation was the end of black suffering, you're a fucking idiot.**

 **5\. If you don't agree with me, PM me and we'll try to prove each other wrong and I will be respectful. If you feel the necessity to leave a review arguing against me, again that's not what the reviews are for, please don't do so anonymously. That pisses me off. Nobody knows who the fuck you are anyways and if you're worried about getting "lynched," on fucking , boo fucking hoo.**

 **Finally, if it bothers you that I'm going on about this, grow up and learn to be uncomfortable. White fragility is the least of my concerns. Also, don't read my story. It bothers me to think some white racist is out there reading my story and getting fumy when I say Black Lives Matter.**


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